Never Gone, Never Forgotten, and Never Letting Go
by Eladriewen
Summary: After Sirius' death, Harry begins to have awkward dreams at night, and during the day his mind plays tricks on him. Trying to solve the mystery, Harry returns to the Death Chamber that holds the dais, and discovers something he never expected. FINISHED
1. Harry, Wake up!

****

"Before you can find me again, you must realize that I am but only partly gone. Yet never fear, for I am always with you. The ones who love us never really leave..."

* * *

Neville screamed, his legs drawn up to his chest so that the Death Eater holding him was momentarily holding him off the ground. The Death Eater dropped him and he fell to the floor, twitching and screaming in agony.

"That was just a taster!" said Bellatrix, raising her wand so that Neville's screams stopped and he lay sobbing at her feet. She turned and gazed up at Harry. "Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy, or watch your little friend die the hard way!"

Harry did not have time to think; there was no choice. The prophecy was hot with the heat from his clutching hand as he held it out. Malfoy jumped forward to take it.

Then, high above them, two more doors burst open and five more people sprinted into the room: Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley.

Malfoy turned and raised his wand, but Tonks had already sent a Stunning Spell right at him. Harry did not wait to see whether it had made contact, but dived off the dais out of the way. The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were now raining spells down upon them as they jumped from step to step toward the sunken floor: Through the darting bodies, the flashes of light, Harry could see Neville crawling along. He dodged another jet of red light and flung himself flat on the ground to reach Neville.

"Are you okay?" he yelled, as another spell soared inches over their heads.

"Yes," said Neville, trying to pull himself up.

"And Ron?"

"I dink he's all right -- he was still fighding the brain when I left --"

The stone floor between them exploded as a spell hit it, leaving a crater right where Neville's hand had been seconds before. Both scrambled away from the spot, then a thick arm came out of nowhere, seized Harry around the neck and pulled him upright, so that his toes were barely touching the floor.

"Give it to me," growled a voice in his ear, "give me the prophecy --"

The man was pressing so tightly on Harry's windpipe that he could not breathe -- through watering eyes he saw Sirius dueling with a Death Eater some ten feet away. Kingsley was fighting two at once; Tonks, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Bellatrix -- nobody seemed to realize that Harry was dying....He turned his wand backward toward the man's side, but had no breath to utter an incantation, and the man's free hand was groping toward the hand in which Harry was grasping the prophecy --

"AARGH!"

Neville had come lunging out of nowhere: Unable to articulate a spell, he had jabbed Hermione's wand hard into the eyehole of the Death Eater's mask. The man relinquished Harry at once with a howl of pain and Harry whirled around to face him and gasped, "STUPEFY!"

The Death Eater keeled over backward and his mask slipped off. It was Macnair, Buckbeak's would-be killer, one of his eyes now swollen and bloodshot.

"Thanks!" Harry said to Neville, pulling him aside as Sirius and his Death Eater lurched past, dueling so fiercely that their wands were blurs. Then Harry's foot made contact with something round and hard and he slipped -- for a moment he thought he had dropped the prophecy, then saw Moody's magic eye spinning away across the floor.

Its owner was lying on his side, bleeding from the head, and his attacker was now bearing down upon Harry and Neville: Dolohov, his long pale face twisted with glee.

"Tarantallegra!" he shouted, his want pointing at Neville, whose legs went immediately into a kind of frenzied tap dance, unbalancing him and causing him to fall to the floor again. "Now, Potter--"

He made the same slashing movement with his wand that he had used on Hermione just as Harry yelled, "Protego!"

Harry felt something streak across his face like a blunt knife but the force of it knocked him sideways, and he fell over Neville's jerking legs, but the Shield Charm had stopped the worst of the spell.

Dolohov raised his wand again. "Accio Proph--"

Sirius hurtled out of nowhere, rammed Dolohov with his shoulder, and sent him flying out of the way. The prophecy had again flown to the tips of Harry's fingers but he had managed to cling to it. Now Sirius and Dolohov were dueling, their wands flashing like swords, sparks flying from their wand tips--

Dolohov drew back his wand to make the same slashing movement he had used on Harry and Hermione. Springing up, Harry yelled, "Petrificus Totalus!" once again, Dolohov's arms and legs snapped together and he keeled over backward, landing with a crash on his back.

"Nice one!" shouted Sirius, forcing Harry's head down as a pair of Stunning Spells flew toward them. "Now I want you to get out of--"

They both ducked again. A jet of green light had narrowly missed Sirius; across the room Harry saw Tonks fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling from stone seat to stone seat, and Bellatrix, triumphant, running back toward the fray.

"Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!" Sirius yelled, dashing to meet Bellatrix. Harry did not see what happened next: Kingsley swayed across his field of vision, battling with the pockmarked Rookwood, now mask-less; another jet of green light flew over Harry's head as he launched himself toward Neville--

"Can you stand?" he bellowed in Neville's ear, as Neville's legs were still flying in every direction, they would not support him and then, out of nowhere, a man lunged at them. Both fell backward, Neville's legs waving wildly like an overturned beetle's, Harry with his left arm held up in the air to try and save the small glass ball from being smashed.

"The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!" snarled Lucius Malfoy's voice in his ear, and Harry felt the tip of Malfoy's wand pressing hard between his ribs.

"No -- get -- off -- me...Neville -- catch it!"

Harry flung the prophecy across the floor, Neville spun himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Malfoy pointed the wand instead at Neville, but Harry jabbed his own wand back over his shoulder and yelled, "Impedimenta!"

Malfoy was blasted off his back. As Harry scrambled up again he looked around and saw Malfoy smash into the dais on which Sirius and Bellatrix were now dueling. Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry and Neville again, but before he could draw breath to strike, Lupin had jumped between them.

"Harry, round up the others and GO!"

Harry seized Neville by the shoulder of his robes and lifted him bodily onto the first tier of stone steps. Neville's legs twitched and jerked and would not support his weight. Harry heaved again with all the strength he possessed and they climbed another step--

A spell hit the stone bench at Harry's heel. It crumbled away and he fell back to the step below: Neville sank to the ground, his legs still jerking and thrashing, and thrust the prophecy into his pocket.

"Come on!" said Harry desperately, hauling at Neville's robes. "Just try and push with your legs--"

He gave another stupendous heave and Neville's robes tore all along the left seam -- the small spun-glass ball dropped from his pocket and before either of them could catch it, one of Neville's floundering feet kicked it. It flew some ten feet to their right and smashed on the step beneath them. As both of them stared at the place where it had broken, appalled at what had happened, a pearly-white figure with hugely magnified eyes rose into the air, unnoticed by any but them. Harry could see its mouth was moving, but in all the crashes and screams and yells surrounding them, not one word of the prophecy could he hear. The figure stopped speaking and dissolved into nothingness.

"Harry, I'b sorry!" cried Neville, his face anguished as his legs continued to flounder. "I'b so sorry, Harry, I didn'd bean do--"

"It doesn't matter!" Harry shouted. "Just try and stand, let's get out of--"

"Dubbledore!" said Neville, his sweaty face suddenly transported, staring over Harry's shoulder.

"What?"

"DUBBLEDORE!"

Harry turned to look where Neville was staring. Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbeldore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Harry felt a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of his body -- **they were saved.**

Dumbeldore sped down the steps past Neville and Harry, who had no more thought of leaving. Dumbeldore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realized he was there. There were yells; one of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbeldore's spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line--

Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: He was laughing at her. "Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.

The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.

Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbeldore turned to the dais too.

It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch...

And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and then fell back into place.

Harry heard Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing -- Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second...

But Sirius did not reappear...

...Lupin dragged Harry away from the dais, Harry still staring at the archway, angry at Sirius now for keeping him waiting...

...But some part of him realized, even as he fought to break free from Lupin, that Sirius had never kept him waiting before...

...Sirius had risked everything, always, to see Harry, to help him...

...If Sirius was not reappearing out of that archway when Harry was yelling for him as though his life depended on it, the only possible explanation was that he could not come back....

....That he really was...

"Harry!"

"Hmmm?"

Something was prodding him hard in the back. Groaning and rolling over, one eye lazily open half way, Harry saw Ron frowning at him. His face pale.

"What is it?"

"You were having a nightmare, mate."

Sighing, Harry lifted his head to find the nearby wall clock. It was three fifteen in the morning.

He'd been spending his first week of the summer at the Weasley's. They'd been happy to have him, of course, but no one had ever treated him the same ever since...since...

"Ron, do you know what time it is?"

Grinning sheepishly, Ron lifted himself back onto his bed. "Sorry, Harry."

Groaning again, Harry rolled over, drifting in dreams and nightmares. A voice echoed in his head as he began to relive the worst day of his life all over again.

"Harry...wake up..."

His eyes shot open. Harry looked around, confused and excited all at once. That was Sirius' voice!

No. It couldn't be. Sirius was...not there. Rolling over again, his blankets pulled over his head (to escape Ron's worried gaze) Harry let his eyes close. Before he found himself back in the Death Chamber of his dreams, he heard the voice once more...

"Harry...please wake up,"

* * *

Author's Note: All right. Well now that you've all been made to relive that, please be aware of the fact that I have a wonderful surprise for you at the end of all this. Please R&R, as I've worked very hard to get this chapter to you all.

Disclaimer:The large, italicized section in this document is purely the creation of author J. K. Rowling, and can in no way be accredited to the fanfiction author as her own. Thank you.

The quote at the beginning is of my own make. It was not pulled from any of Rowling's works, or those of any other author's.

The phrase 'The ones who love us never really leave' is pulled from Dumbeldore's speech to Harry after the presumed passing of Sirius Black, having passed through the veil in the Death Chamber at the Ministry of Magic.


	2. The First Dream: Drifting in Space

Kathryn Black

Thank you. I'm glad it [the dream] didn't sound cheesy.

Tigris T Draconis

I'm updating as quickly as possible. I'm working on three stories right now and finishing up a fourth one.

Padfootlover719

Love the name. (wink) I don't want to spoil anything about who's alive and who isn't, but I promise you that this is _**not**_ a slash story.

Lady Taliesin

Hiya! Thanks so much for your review, though fanfiction never sent it to me. Ah well. I appreciate it.

Yoda

Woah! Where have you _been_? I miss hearing from you! How's school going? Do you have anything new coming up for us who are so longingly waiting for you to write again? You need to e-mail me more! I don't hear from you enough these days!

Well anyway, glad everyone likes this so far. Hope to hear more from you! -Ela

* * *

-

"Are you okay, Harry?" Ginny asked with a frown as he left Ron's room, fully dressed and ready to face the day. All save for his hair, which always looked as though it hadn't been combed. "You look tired."

"Not sleeping too well, Gin," Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Nightmares?"

You could say that, Harry thought while shrugging off the concerned words of his friend. Truth be told, Ginny had become more than a friend in these past few weeks, though part of him was afraid to admit it.

"Could say what?" asked Ginny with a raised eyebrow. Harry frowned. Hadn't he just been thinking that?

"Breakfast!" Mrs. Weasley's high pitched voice screamed from the kitchen, interrupting the thought at once. Harry winced. Every time she did that, the sound seemed to drill directly through his temples. Ginny smiled apologetically.

"You'll get used to it," she said with a slight laugh.

Harry grinned stupidly. "I hope so. I'd like to be able to hear when school starts again."

The twins were now stumbling out of their own room, not looking nearly as awake as Harry and Ginny. They were both still in their pajamas with hair that seemed to leap out at all angles. Fred yawned.

"Mornin' you two," all four stated simultaneously.

"Mum's got breakfast ready," said Ginny.

"We heard," George grumbled, slipping into the nearest washroom. Fred at his heels.

"Well, _that's _a new one."

"What is?" Harry asked, following Ginny down the stairs.

"They don't usually hear her. They're just _up_."

Harry grinned knowingly. Most likely they'd been awake for at least the past hour, just lying in bed lazily. Harry liked to do that at times. It left for an excuse to not have things done early in the morning.

"Good morning Harry, dear," Molly Weasley greeted cheerily. "Ready for breakfast?"

Harry nodded and took a seat across from Ginny. The two of them talked casually, not ceasing to greet Fred, George, or Ron when they entered the kitchen. All of whom still looked quite sloppy. Quickly, Harry ate his eggs and sausages before Mrs. Weasley could offer him seconds and slop them on his plate while he refused. He excused himself, thanked Mrs. Weasley for the wonderful meal, and fled back up to Ron's room.

Frowning, Harry realized he had completely forgotten what he was looking for and moved downstairs to rejoin the family.

"What's up?" Ron asked, taking his dirty plate to the sink. Harry shook his head and plopped down in an empty chair near a roaring fire. Mr. Weasley was working late at the ministry, so Harry had the opportunity to nab the overstuffed armchair nearby (it was Mr. Weasley's chair). When Ron returned, he took the seat next to Harry and closed his eyes, melting into its cushions with a bliss-filled grin. "So what do you want to do today?" Ron asked lazily.

Harry shrugged. He was honestly too tired to do much of anything, and for some reason he was incredibly sore. His back and arms ached immensely and he couldn't figure out why. He also had the strange feeling that someone was poking him with a very sharp quill in his forearms at times.

Suddenly taken by the sight of his right hand (which still held the scars from Umbridge's pen) Harry tried to ignore the crackling fire to reflect on why he felt so awful. _Probably just slept on something wrong,_ Harry thought to himself. Mimicking Ron, he melted into the cushions of the chair.

"Slept on what wrong?"

Harry looked up, throwing a quizzical look at Ron.

"Who slept on what wrong?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You just said you slept on something wrong."

Frowning, Harry pulled himself up out of the chair and eyed Ron curiously. "Are you reading my mind?" He asked with a mock angry tone.

"No. You said it right out, mate," said Ron.

Harry blinked and decided to ignore it. He sighed lightly and melted back into the chair.

"So, what _do_ we want to do today?"

Again, Ron shrugged. Fred and George soon entered, still not properly groomed.

"You two look like you're in a rotten state," said Fred, plopping himself down on the arm of Ron's chair.

"I think we could take care of that, don't you?" asked George, plopping down on one of the arms of Harry's chair.

"Oh, no doubt." Fred grinned, but Mrs. Weasley poked her head in to interrupt them.

"Fred! George! Go get dressed! Your father's going to be home soon and you two look disgraceful."

"Love you too, mum!" They both called in unison, and as one they trekked up the stairs.

"Nutters," Ron groaned, leaning back into his chair. Harry laughed, his eyes falling into the fire with a sort of mystified longing. He was bored, but he wouldn't admit it. The Weasley's had been so kind to take him in this summer that he would never once criticize their lack of entertainment. "Well, what are we doing?"

Harry sighed. "When do OWLs come in?"

"Not till July, I think," Ron answered, suddenly up out of his seat with a nervous twitch. "C'mon, let's go see what I've got in my room."

Harry followed Ron upstairs. Eventually joined by Ginny, Fred, and George, the five of them wasted the day away playing Wizard's Chess. The four of them teamed up against Ron, trying desperately to win one game. They lost on that attempt. Then they tried taking turns, each against Ron with the others coaching the player on. Ginny had a near victory, but at the last moment her knight had chickened out and cantered off the board.

"Get back here you chicken!" Fred hollered, launching himself at the stone figure. He caught it in time for Ron's castle to make a lasting blow on Ginny's King.

"Checkmate," Ron huffed proudly for the fourth time that day.

"Bugger," Fred cursed the knight and tossed him carelessly aside. George, sighing, looked out the window.

By the time evening came around, dinner had been prepared (and the remaining Weasley's dressed in day clothing), and the family of seven (Harry was now counted as family) enjoyed their meal outside under the stars. Harry, who was nearly always first to finish eating, took advantage of his free time and took to stargazing. Though he had a minimal interest in stargazing, Harry found it to be a relaxing hobby when nothing else could be done to pass the time.

Though it was July, Harry could still easily find his favorite constellation. Throwing himself against a tree, Harry spotted the constellation Canis Major and admired for the first time in weeks the star that was his godfather's namesake...

"Sirius..."

* * *

When Harry fell asleep that night, it was the first time he had not been greeted by the terrible memory of the Death Chamber.

In truth, Harry wasn't quite sure where he was. There was an immense blackness that surrounded him, and for a moment Harry wondered if he had died in his sleep. But just as that thought sunk into his brain, he found a glimmer of light in the encircling shadows. A pinprick of pure white radiance. Harry squinted to get a better look at it, when suddenly another one lit up nearby. Another, and another, until Harry realized that this was not death. He was floating in space! Floating, and all the little pinpricks of light were stars.

Well, this is a nice change, Harry thought to himself. Looking down, Harry noticed that he wasn't really floating. It was more like an invisible floor that was lying beneath his feet, but beyond that the universe opened up even more so. Harry could see more stars, and what he thought might even be a distant galaxy swirling slowly. _Certainly beats being back at the Ministry._

"Harry?" A voice echoed from behind him. Turning his head to where he assumed the source was located, Harry frowned. He knew that voice from somewhere, but he didn't want to think on it. He ignored it and went on exploring this place that he had found himself in. _"Harry?" _The voice came again, and again. Not from behind; not from _any _angle. It seemed as though it were being whispered directly into Harry's ear. _"I don't know if you can hear me, Harry, but I'm going to continue talking in case you can."_

"No, I can hear you," Harry said at last.

Hearing his own voice in his dream was quite unnerving. He sounded weak and distant, like a man on his deathbed. "Where are you?"

"I'm here, Harry," came the answer. _"I'm here with you. Right where I've always been."_

No. That voice. It couldn't be!

"Sirius?"

There was a triumphant laugh, but it soon quieted. The voice started up again, sounding happy and relieved all at once. It drowned out the immense silence of this vacuum Harry now existed in, and he was partially grateful for it.

"So you remember me? You know who I am?"

"Of course I know who you are." Harry choked on that question. Was there a reason for him to forget his godfather? Harry turned around at once, sensing a presence, and choked once more. Sirius was standing there beside him, smiling patiently. He seemed healthier now. Ironic, considering the fact that he was dead.

Yet here to Harry he seemed very much alive. _It's just a dream,_ Harry thought.

The smile on Sirius' face broke.

"Yes, Harry, this is a dream. But it doesn't have to be."

Harry's heart skipped. He was confused and excited, yet sad all at once.

"What do you mean? You're dead."

"No I'm not, Harry," he said with a note of sadness. _"I'm alive. I'm here right now."_

"You're not dead? Then, where are you?"

"Right here, Harry." Sirius reached down and brought Harry's hand into his own. _"I'm here at your side. All you have to do is wake up."_

"...What?"

* * *

Harry started. He was sitting up in his bed now, dripping in a cold sweat. Ron was snoring away off to his right, completely oblivious to Harry.

Frowning, he looked around. Sirius wasn't here. What had been the point of that dream?

Great, so reliving everything isn't enough? My mind has to make me think that Sirius is still alive somewhere now too?

Ron stirred, opening his eyes. "D'you say something mate?" he asked groggily.

"No, Ron, I didn't," Harry shot furiously through gritted teeth. "Go back to sleep."

Too tired to argue or care, Ron rolled over. Harry could hear him snoring again in no time.

"Just perfect," Harry hissed at himself. "I'm going insane."

* * *

Author's Note: Well, I hope all of that wasn't too boring. Don't go to sleep like Harry did, though. I've got a wonderful surprise ready for you all! And trust me, things will get weirder.


	3. Unfamiliar Voices

When morning came the next day, Harry was the first to wake. Long before the sun rose, he lay staring with sightless eyes up toward the ceiling of Ron's room. There had been no real purpose to that dream. _A strange ending to a strange day,_ Harry thought with a fearful glance at Ron. No. The redhead was still quite asleep. Asleep, like Harry should be. It was five forty five and Harry was not growing any less tired then when he had first opened his eyes after a two hour period of drifting in mental darkness. There was no Death Chamber dream after the encounter with the phantom Sirius, and there was no extension of the previous dream before. Just darkness. And silence.

Silence.

That was something Harry had not grown accustomed to. Silence, here at the Burrow. It seemed that all the world was asleep now, the uncharacteristic silence ringing in Harry's ears like a finely tuned bell.

It was annoying.

Harry frowned. He had the sudden urge to cry out and disrupt this strange atmosphere he now found himself smothered in. A grin came to his face as he rolled over on his side; an idea was forming in his head. He could see Ron drooling on his pillow, mouth wide open and a face like an angel.

Snorting at the odd comparison, Harry carelessly tossed his pillow at Ron in an attempt to wake him up. Unfortunately, the action did not quite have the effect he had hoped. Instead of waking up, Ron merely rolled over; Harry's pillow stuck underneath his left elbow.

"Well, bloody _freaking _hell," Harry sighed angrily. He fell back down onto his now pillowless cot and resumed the new hobby he had mentally dubbed 'ceiling-gazing.'. The sunlight had begun to pour in now by the bucketful, instead of the tiny little trickling it had been doing only a few minutes ago. Harry watched the floating dust particles dance idly in the beams of light with a sort of mesmerized longing. There was something strange about their dance, that rhythmic pattern of motion that they followed...or was it something to do with the light?

Harry frowned and lifted himself quickly from his cot. It _was_ the light. Why was everything tinted red? He removed his glasses and looked at them. Perhaps Fred and George had snuck in late at night and put a color charm on them? No, that wasn't it. He checked with his own wand to find nothing wrong with his glasses. It couldn't have been them anyway, because he realized after putting them back on his head that the world was still an eerie shade of pale crimson without them.

Perhaps it was the window?

Quietly, Harry slipped across the floor and peered outside. That didn't help. Everything out there was tinted red as well. He opened the window and peered through the small opening he had left himself. That hadn't helped either. It had to be his eyes. Harry closed the window and snuck into the hall outside Ron's room. Stepping into the bathroom, Harry noted that everything was still red.

What the hell is going on? He asked, peering at his eyes in the mirror. They were still green (he guessed) and they certainly weren't bloodshot. Frowning, Harry went back to Ron's room. He still had some time, perhaps some extra sleep would help?

* * *

After a forty five minute nap, Harry was quite happy to find that the world had come back to it's original shade of mixed colors. Ron was yawning as Harry sat up. 

"Morning," the red head grumbled groggily.

"Good morning," Harry answered, sliding off his cot once more to face the day. His socks already on, Harry flew down the stairs toward the sound of a freshly cooked breakfast. "Good morning," he greeted cheerily, and found to his surprise that Remus Lupin had joined them for breakfast.

"Hello, Harry," he smiled warmly. Harry returned the expression and shared a one armed embrace with his only remaining link to a past they had both lost. "How are you this fine day?"

"Good," Harry grinned knowingly. "And yourself?"

"Not bad. Wonderful morning, isn't it?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded in agreement, then turned her glimmering hazel eyes upon Harry. "Remus just walked in not a few minutes ago, Harry," she informed him. "He'll be spending the afternoon here. Things were not taking proper care of you, though he won't admit it." She added this last part with a sly wink at Remus, who hadn't quite caught it.

"I-I am not!" he stuttered immediately, frowning at the accusation.

"I think she's joking," Harry chuckled. He moved for Fred to sidle in to the kitchen, having not yet seated himself at the table yet.

" 'Lo Mr. Lupin," Fred yawned. Remus laughed.

"Good morning Fred, or is it George?"

Fred shrugged. "I'm whoever you want me to be right now. Too tired to care."

* * *

The day went on without a hitch. Lupin bid them goodbye at nine thirty and left them to return to his flat. Harry wondered as he left if Lupin had had any luck finding work, but never bothered to ask. He didn't feel like getting the 'Don't worry about me,' lecture. Not that Lupin lectured...but that wasn't the point. 

With a timid smile as he sat alone on the couch, Harry remembered the first and only time Lupin _had _lectured him. On his own safety, of course (because so many people felt they needed to remind Harry that he was important). It had been a rather unnerving moment, and it was the first time Harry could truly remember feeling awful for something he'd done. He supposed it was because of the immense respect he held for his professor that had caused him to feel such guilt. Of course, Harry respected Lupin now, but he didn't have the authority to parade around Harry's life and tell him what he should and shouldn't be doing.

Or did he?

With Sirius gone, would that make him my care taker? Harry shook his head to the mental question. No, he wasn't Remus' responsibility, and he didn't want to place that weight on the man. Remus had enough trouble supporting himself. A teenage boy like Harry would only add to that stress, and the fact that Lupin couldn't keep a job due to , would have made life hard on both of them.

With a sigh, Harry let his head rest on the back of the couch. He closed his eyes to kill the throbbing between his temples. The day had been long and slightly eventful what with the Order paying numerous visits during the day. All of the Weasley clan, along with Harry, were now enjoying the quiet of an empty house. At least, empty by Weasley standards.

Ron was asleep in the over stuffed chair near the fire. Harry, removing his glasses, decided to emulate this. He was snoring away in minutes; the perfect picture of innocence wrapped up on a pale, torn couch near the fire.

* * *

The first thing Harry was aware of was voices. Not the voices of anyone he was familiar with. It wasn't a repressed memory, Harry knew, as he drifted through the bodiless words. The voices sounded too official, and they were talking about things Harry didn't quite understand. 

"The shock should have worn away by now..." came a female voice, stern but kindly all at once. And young. Very young.

But she wasn't alone. Another voice answered hers. _"Of course, this is common place..."_

"There is certainly no lasting physical damage." This was the same voice Harry had heard before.

"Mentally, however..." The second voice trailed off.

There was a hushed silence. Then; _"I wouldn't worry. There's nothing you can do. The best thing for you now is to go home and get your mind off of it."_

A third voice, unrecognizable, sounded very nearby. It was dry and cracked, as though it were coming through a throat that had been screaming for hours on end.

"I'll stay."

A sigh. _"Very well."_

There was a clicking sound, like a door closing, and then that was it. Everything went silent.

* * *

Harry's eyes shot open. He was still on the couch at the Burrow. Ron had gone now. Probably to bed. Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the clock. It was midnight. With a sigh he started off for bed, pondering the strange echoes that had made their way through his head. 


	4. The Mirror

Harry found himself in the Death Chamber once more, but it was different now. He was alone. The room was silent save for the rustling of the veil, and the disembodied whispers just beyond the arch. Beneath his bare feet, Harry felt the chill of the stone steps. It was eerily dark within the room. The only thing casting light was the arch itself. A crystalline blue aura, which illuminated its edges and spread weakly throughout the chamber. Harry, intrigued by both the light and the whispers, drew closer. The veil quivered slightly at his approach, but otherwise allowed itself to catch the mysterious breezes that were now emanating from the other side of the arch. The voices grew stronger. Curiosity turned into mad desire, and Harry felt like throwing himself through the archway to find what was on the other side. With a trembling, white hand, Harry reached up to pull back the veil. He stepped through, holding his breath, and found himself momentarily blinded by...

...The glow of the sun against white, pure sand. He was on a beach! Yards of untouched sand stretched out before his very eyes, and at the end was a blue-green ocean. He could smell the sea air; as real as anything he'd ever experienced before. Behind him, a lush forest grew. Tall and healthy trees sprouted out in different angles with a thick, vibrant brush covered in every sort of tropical flower. "Is this what death is like?" he asked to the void. The bliss filled, warm void. There was no answer. Harry hadn't expected one.

Eagerly, he stepped forward onto the naked beach. There was no litter at all. No twigs, shells, or even small sea life that may have made its way up the sand. It was blank, like a new piece of parchment. It was quite incredible despite the sudden loneliness Harry was feeling. He walked down toward the shore, where the tide, he noted, was just now seeping in. Sighing, he placed his bare foot into the water and felt the cool, refreshing wave wash over him. It seemed to fill all of his body with a sense of tranquility. Harry smiled. He had the desire now to walk into the water. To allow that feeling wash over him for the rest of eternity. Drowning didn't seem feasible here. This wasn't really water, Harry thought to himself as he inched forward. It was something else. Something new that he hadn't experienced.

Preparing to submerge himself, Harry removed the robes of his nightgown after he waded knee deep into the water, and arched his back for a dive. All of a sudden, he felt his foot scrape over something sharp. _A broken shell,_ he mused without a second thought. But as Harry pulled himself back against the gripping tide, he found that it was more than just a broken shell. His heel had connected with a smooth surface. Part of it was cracked in jagged, dangerous pieces that were now biting painfully into Harry's foot. Cursing, he threw himself back onto the sand and pulled his foot up so that he might see it better. Sure enough, there was a long incision from his toes to his heel. It was bleeding heavily.

Harry bit his lip against the pain and inspected the wound. There was no glass in it, fortunately. He crawled so that his new injury would not get sand into it, and moved to find what had caused this. To his amazement, the tide fell suddenly and he saw a small mirror, left behind carelessly in its wake. He reached out and grabbed at it before the sea swallowed it forever. Its reflective surface was cracked, and within the splinters ran thin lines of watery blood. Harry's own, he knew. But this mirror, Harry realized with a frightened pang in his heart, wasn't any mirror. It was the one Sirius had given him upon their last meeting. The one Sirius had told him to use to contact him if he needed anything. _But how did it get here?_ Harry asked himself. His own mirror was packed tightly in his trunk. _It_ was the mirror with a crack through the glass. How could his mirror have gotten here?

Questions began to form in Harry's mind at a million miles a minute. Each made less sense than the last, and with no one to ask, Harry was on his own. Sighing, he set the mirror down and peered out at the ocean once more. The feeling to plunge back into its depths returned. He frowned. This wasn't normal. Wherever he was... it wasn't where he should be. Harry looked sadly down at the mirror. Its broken, smooth surface had not one scratch on it. Not a dent, no harm at all. How was that possible after having been buried on this beach for so long?

Once again, Harry found himself consumed with loneliness and longing. Sirius wasn't here. Why? Had there been a mistake? Was their some sort of mix up? Had Sirius done what Harry now desired to do? Leaping into the blue mysteries of that ocean so as to finally find some peace in his life? If that was the case, Harry decided, then he would do so as well. There was nothing left worth holding on to in his own life that Harry met with purpose. Everyone had their own lives to lead now. Everyone had someone they could call there's...everyone except for Harry. That privilege, that _blessing_, had died with Sirius. Now, there was nothing left. Harry had decided that a long time ago.

With an elongated sigh, Harry stood, ignoring the twinge in his foot. He was about to make what might have been the last decision of his life, before;

__

"Harry!"

He stopped dead on his feet. Harry knew that voice well. It haunted his dreams every night, all night, ever since he had left Hogwarts. It was Sirius' voice, and he sounded pleading; as though he could see what Harry was preparing to do to himself. _"Harry, don't. Please!"_

Harry looked around, bewildered and concerned. What was wrong? Why did Sirius sound so desperate? Why did he sound so frightened all of a sudden?

"Sirius?"

__

"Harry, please! Don't do it! Don't let go."

Let go? Harry thought. _What on Earth would he be letting go of?_

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, bewildered. His eyes flashed around madly, searching desperately for his godfather: the one person that had ever really meant something to him. A feeling beyond friendship, beyond the obligated cares his aunt and uncle had ever bestowed upon him. Sirius had been someone he could confide in. Sirius was the parent Harry had never known. Now, he was gone, and Harry wanted him back more than anything. "Sirius? Where are you?"

__

"I'm right here, Harry. Right where I've always been."

This statement made Harry very angry. Where the hell did he get off saying that? Sirius wasn't anywhere in sight!

"Where?" Harry demanded again, this time with urgency. He noted the weakness in his own voice, but brushed the thought away carelessly. "Show me."

There was no answer, but he had the strangest sensation that someone was holding his hands. Harry looked down, bewildered. No, there was no one here to have even brushed past his side, much less take his hands. Then, something else caught Harry's eyes. He saw the mirror, and in its cracked surface he saw bits and pieces of his godfather's face. It was tear stained and pale, drawn thin by increased worry. His hair was tidier now, but messy still, as though he hadn't properly brushed it in days. Harry's knees buckled, and he reached desperately for the mirror. He held it close, tears now forming in his own eyes.

"Sirius! Sirius!" He cried into the mirror, not knowing what else to do.

__

"What, Harry? I'm here, what is it?"

Sirius sounded genuinely concerned and frightened. The thought struck Harry as odd that his godfather would act so terrified in front of him, or at any other time. Part of Harry had always held the childish conception that Sirius was emotionally impenetrable, that he had always possessed a clear head and a ready stamina. Of course, that belief had been proven incorrect by many, including Sirius himself; yet the idolizing eyes of a growing boy upon his mentor could not be easily swayed by words alone.

This, however, made Harry's heart hurt. Here was Sirius, reaching out desperately for him, with Harry unable to do anything to help. For the second time in his life, he found his skills inadequate. He couldn't save the one person that meant the world to him. It ached, terribly.

"Sirius, where are you?"

__

"I'm here, Harry. I'm right here."

Harry swallowed a desperate, angry sob. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

__

"Just wake up. You'll see."

"No! No, don't say that!" Harry yelled into the shattered mirror in his hands; a perfect symbol of his own hopes and dreams for the future. "Don't say that! This is real!"

The imagery around Harry broke. It swirled and paled, dying before Harry's very eyes. He clung desperately to the mirror and the image of his godfather's face, but soon it too was taken from his hands. Tears in his eyes, Harry reached out frantically to rip it back, only to find empty space. He awoke with a start to find himself in Ron's bedroom. The tears were still falling from the corners of his eyes.

"No," Harry gasped, trying desperately to hold back the sobs of anguish that were already wracking his body.


	5. The Disappearing Chapter

When Harry had finally pulled himself from the immense shock that had been his dream, he became suddenly very aware of a severe pain on the bottom of his right foot. Frowning and wiping away tears, Harry pulled back the sheets of his bed to find...blood. He stared incredulously at this phenomenon with his breath caught in his throat. It was an illusion. Harry was still dreaming.

Biting his bottom lip, Harry limped to the bathroom where he realized that he was not stuck in any dream. This injury to his foot was, oddly enough, very real. He sat down upon the toilet and inspected the injury further. There was no glass in the wound, or anything else for that matter. How, then, had Harry managed to cut himself?

Knowing better than to let the incision heal on it's own, Harry helped himself to the medical cabinet where he applied some disinfectant, a healing potion, and then proceeded to wrap it. He limped back to his and Ron's room where he began to look for what may have caused the wound. The constant shuffling of sheets was enough to wake Ron, who noted Harry's wrapped foot and immediately began to ask questions.

"I don't know," Harry answered every single time. "I just woke up and my foot was bleeding."

Ron frowned. "That's strange."

"I know." He debated telling Ron about his dream. About the Death Chamber and the veil, the ocean and the mirror. No, Harry decided almost immediately after he had thought it up. _But it couldn't hurt to narrow it down a bit._ "Stranger still, I did the exact same thing in my dream."

Ron was up now, searching for some clothes. "What?" he asked, not quite listening.

"I cut my foot in a dream I had too, and when I woke up it was bleeding."

Ron's brow furrowed. "Very strange."

Harry wasn't so sure. He'd heard of it happening before, even with muggles. They dream they're falling off of a building only to wake up crudely splattered on the floor of their bedroom after having fallen out of bed. The same could be said for cuts or injuries. It wasn't really that odd, but Harry couldn't quite figure out _what_ he had cut his foot on. With that mystery solved, he'd feel much better.

"There's some medicine stuff in the bathroom if you want," Ron stated, pulling a shirt over his head.

"I already took care of it," Harry replied, slipping a sock over the bandage so that it wouldn't attract attention.

They headed down to breakfast with Fred and George following behind them. Ginny was already downstairs, helping her mother set the table.

* * *

A quick run to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys had allowed Harry the opportunity to purchase something that would give him some entertainment for the next couple of...days. It was a new addition to the series that Remus had purchased for him as a Christmas present last year. He had bought it for a few reasons. First; the series had been incredibly helpful while he had been teaching the D.A. meetings. Second; the series had been rather fascinating anyway, and Harry had learned a great deal from them. Lastly; Remus had written to him the other day and recommended that he take a look at it. Having nothing better to do, Harry had bought the book and was now thoroughly enjoying the read. In fact, Harry was so absorbed in the volume that he was almost unaware of the fact that Ginny and Ron had joined him in the study.

"Like the book?" Ron asked, chewing on a few delicacies his mother had baked the day before. Harry nodded, not looking up from his read. Ginny exchanged a grin with her older brother and took a cookie from the coffee table.

"Have you told Remus you've bought it yet?" she asked, knowing quite well the story behind Harry's interest in what had appeared to everyone else as nothing more than a rather insipid Dark Arts series that might be a text book set someday.

"No," Harry answered, folding over a corner of the page and taking a cookie for himself. "I figured I'd write him tonight about it. Last time I asked him he hadn't gotten it yet." Ginny giggled. "What?" Harry asked, bemused. His right eyebrow raised in questioning.

"She thinks you're going brainy on us," Ron said with a laugh. Harry shared in the uproar that was now Ron and Ginny's laughter.

"Hardly," said Harry with a grin. "I have my favorite subjects, but I'm no Hermione."

"Huzzah for that!"

Harry laughed again. As the minutes waned away, Ron and Ginny started in on a conversation about Quidditch. Harry, taking an uncharacteristic disinterest in the subject, melted back into the book. He had just finished up the third chapter (an exhausting fifty-two page read) and had now reached the fourth, and found to his horror a subject he had not expected to encounter ever in any book.

****

Chapter Four: Portals and Doorways to The Other Side

Part One: The Dead Daises

Harry read on, intrigued.

It has been known to the officials of the Unspeakable Department at London's Ministry of Magic that there are in existence three portals that, in question, may lead a living person, Muggle or Magical, to what is known as "The Other Side". Of course, such theories are yet to be methodically experimented on. However, it has been said by those thoroughly studying these daises and portals, that the voices of those who are dead can be heard whispering behind them.

Harry stopped dead in his read. He wasn't insane. He _had_ heard people behind the veil. Luna had as well. It was the voices of those dead calling out to them. Swallowing hard, Harry wondered. Had it been the voices of his parents?

Ron and Ginny both looked up to find Harry paling over this newfound page.

"Harry?" Ron said, frowning. Harry jumped and looked up to see the faces of both his friends staring apprehensively at him. "What is it?"

"Here, read this," Harry said, moving to hand him the book. Ron reached out to take it, but at that time the book slipped from Harry's hand and fell with a heavy thud to the floor. "Bloody hell," Harry grumbled, kneeling to pick it up. Ron had tried to catch it, but with no luck.

"Sorry, mate," he said, frowning guiltily.

Harry fumed, trying to find the page. He reached chapter four again, but his frown deepened. The page was different now. It read;

****

Chapter Four: Vampiric Genealogy

Part One: Vlad the Impaler

Harry cursed this time, flipping like mad through the pages.

"Everything all right, Harry?" Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I found something," he stated, not looking up. "Something in Daises."

Ron and Ginny exchanged concerned glances.

"Like what?"

"An entire chapter on them, but I can't find it now." Harry could feel his anger growing as he flipped to the back for the index and glossary. He looked up everything from Daises to Portals, finding nothing on the former and hardly anything helpful on the latter. Angry, he slammed the book shut and let it fall to the floor at his feet.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Ron, sounding genuinely apologetic, which was unlike him. "I didn't mean to make you lose the page."

Harry shrugged halfheartedly. "Don't worry about it." He looked up at the clock and sighed. "It's getting late."

Ron nodded in agreement. "I think we'd better head in."

"Sounds good," said Ginny, stretching. "I'm knackered."

* * *

"So what _did _you find?" Ron asked once they were alone in the room. Harry tucked his new book under his cot and sighed, trying to consider if he had found anything, and whether or not it had been a trick of an emotionally exhausted mind.

"It's more along the lines of what I _thought_ I _found_," Harry corrected, pulling back the sheets of his bed.

"Oh?"

Harry nodded, falling back on his cot. "I could have _swore_ I saw the title talking about Daises and Portals, but when I flipped back it talked about Vampiric Genealogy."

Ron snorted. "Personally, the former subject sounds much more interesting."

Harry chuckled. "Not only that, but I..." Harry trailed off. He didn't want to lead into the subject he'd started on. Ron sensed this.

Everyone had tried to keep hush-hush the situation that had happened with Sirius, yet at the same time everyone was bursting for Harry to, well, burst. Harry had grown quite an explosive temper the summer after his fourth year; the fact that he'd been completely cut off from the world concerning everything that had happened had been too much for him. But this summer, after Sirius'...well, Harry hadn't once had an episode. It was more concerning to everyone than had he had an emotional fit. He was bottling things up, which was exactly what Harry's friends had been afraid he would do. Ron especially had been afraid for his friend.

He decided at long last it was time to finish beating around the bush. Everyone had treated Harry like he was a child on the edge. As if one mention of Sirius' name and he'd just melt away and die in a dark corner of his mind. Ron knew otherwise. He would accept seeing Harry cry. He would accept his anger, his curses, his tears, his blame on everyone and everything, but he wasn't going to allow his best friend in the world to destroy himself while everyone else looked away.

"But what?" Ron encouraged, sitting down and staring at Harry's timid form. There was something in Ron's eyes that made Harry rather impressed; a sort of depth that he didn't usually display. Ron was as concerned as everyone else over Harry's mental and emotional welfare, but this was the first time he was being probed about his own thoughts and concerns.

It was almost relieving.

"It's just that...I've secretly been wishing to find something on that Dais. If I just knew _something_ about it, I'd be satisfied."

To Harry's surprise, a grin came over Ron's face.

"No you wouldn't," he said, his eyes twinkling. Harry was just about to protest, but Ron continued. "You're not like Hermione, the brainy type and all, but in a sense you are. You're not satisfied knowing _'just enough'_, you have to have the whole shebang or you'll drive yourself insane." Ron paused. "You want to know about the dais because you want to get Sirius back."

Harry sighed.

"Is that such a terrible thing?"

"Terrible?" Ron shook his head. "Terrible? Typical, more like, but not terrible. But, if anyone knew how to get Sirius back from that dais, it would have been done by now."

"But does anyone know anything?"

Ron shrugged. "Who knows?"

Harry allowed himself to laugh at this ironic assortment of words. But he knew Ron was right. If something could have been done by anyone, it would have already been acted upon. The truth was sobering, and depressing. But Ron wasn't finished.

"There's something else bothering you."

Harry nodded, knowing better than to think he could hide it. "I've been having dreams where Sirius is talking to me." A skeptical look crossed Ron's face, but Harry didn't allow him to interrupt. "It's strange. He keeps telling me he's not dead."

"Hopeful thinking, mate, it's all just--"

"No, you don't understand," Harry interrupted sternly. "I'm somewhere, always somewhere, and I hear his voice. He keeps telling me to wake up."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Wake up?"

Harry nodded. "He keeps telling me he's right where he's always been. That I'll see him if I just wake up. I don't get it."

Scratching his head, Ron sighed. "I don't either. Of course, dreams never have to make sense. I once had a dream that everyone on the Quidditch team was playing naked and the snitch was a flying landmine. Trelawney said it meant I was concerned about my past. I never made the connection."

"I can't now, although I'm disturbed that you're having dreams about me flying on a broom without my clothes on."

Ron laughed, and Harry joined in. "Oh, I wasn't paying attention to you. I was watching Angelina and Katie."

This caused Harry to dissolve into a fit of giggles.

"Figures," he finally managed. Ron's expression brightened.

"Maybe you should write Remus now?"

Harry sighed, wiping a few tears from his eyes. "Yeah, I should."

Ron nodded, gathered his pajamas and moved to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he could hear the shower running. Harry gathered up a bit of parchment and a quill and began to write. It seemed awkward writing his old school professor, but he'd done it a few times before and tried once more, unsuccessfully, to dismiss the nagging feeling that he might be bothering the man. Remus has told him to write whenever he had the time, and Harry had promised to do just that. Now, it was just a matter of sounding not-too-formal, and not-too-casual.

After a few moments of thought, Harry decided on the best way to word the letter.

Remus,

It's Harry. I thought I'd write and tell you that I purchased the new book in that series you gave me for Christmas last year. I got it today in Diagon Alley (Mrs. Weasley needed a few ingredients for something) and I've already reached chapter four. It's really a good book. Let me know when you get it, and what you think about it.

In other news, we've not been up to much. Other than our visit to Diagon Alley, things have been pretty uneventful, but I'm not complaining. The company has been great, and every now and then Fred and George experiment with a few new prototypes for their business. So far no one has been blown up or turned into anything unnatural, but it has kept things interesting (to say the least).

Will you be coming over again soon? I enjoyed your visit last time, though we didn't get to talk much. I understand you're probably busy. You don't need to hurry back with a response. Don't rush.

Take care,

Harry

He waved the parchment for it to dry, then allowed Hedwig to take it before her nightly hunt. Harry watched as she disappeared over the moonlit horizon. It was still a few days until the full moon. Remus would get the letter in time, but a response was another story.

With a sigh, Harry pulled off his glasses, checked his injured foot, and drifted off to sleep before Ron had ever turned off the water.


	6. A Black Abyss

Plot Note:_ Actually, the disappearing chapter wasn't due to the book being magical. Most textbooks really aren't, unless you want to include the titles "Monster Book of Monsters", and "The Invisible Book of Invisibility". The continuation of the Dark Arts series is purely non-magic, save for perhaps the binding and distribution process. The disappearing chapter was mainly another mind trick of Harry's, as well as the red vision in the last chapter, the cut on his foot during the dream, and the fact that in chapter one, people could hear Harry's thoughts as though he were speaking them._

This story goes a bit deeper than I believe some of you are expecting. There's a mystery to be solved. Can you figure it out?

* * *

Once again, Harry found himself in the Death Chamber, but it was different this time. In some unperceivable way, it was different. Harry knew this, but couldn't pinpoint it. His eyes darted around, trying desperately to pinpoint what had caused this change in atmosphere. The dais still glowed a crystalline blue, and the whispers still echoed eerily from beneath the swimming veil. Not one stone step was out of place, but there was still something wrong. Quietly, Harry tiptoed down toward the dais. He wasn't sure what drew him to that mysterious, mystical archway, but he barely had the will to fight it. Aside from that, Harry wasn't sure if he would want to if he did possess such a will.

He reached the wooden platform and stepped up onto it. Eagerly, Harry pushed aside the veil, but there was no bright light greeting him. There was no sand or forests; no blue-green ocean with the salty air. There was also a lack of rolling ocean waves and the cry of the sea gulls had mysteriously been silenced. This struck Harry as odd. He frowned and allowed the veil to fall. It dropped slowly when he freed it from his grip, but it caught up again on the mysterious whispers from Beyond; dancing lightly around his ankles and whipping up to delicately tickle his wrists as if encouraging him to pass through once more.

But it didn't feel right this time. There was nothing beyond the veil but a shimmering blackness, and one silver streak Harry might have thought to be the moonlight against the mysterious ocean. Where, then, had the beach gone? The pure white sand? The forest? It was all gone. All he saw now beyond the gossamer curtain was iridescent nothingness. No, something wasn't just _not right_, it was incredibly _wrong_. But what was it? Why couldn't Harry escape the feeling that he was in danger? Something was lurking out there in that blackness, waiting to grab him away from everything. An electric shock made his heart flutter weakly. Harry turned on his heel and prepared to flee the Death Chamber forever, but he never made it past the platform that held the dais. As his eyes danced up the stone steps, he became very aware of a tall, hooded figure looming at the top waiting for him. He didn't need to hear the voice, or see the face, or even peer deeper into those crimson red eyes to know who it was. The pain in Harry's scar told him everything.

Much to Harry's own relief, there was no exchange of words. Not from Voldemort, at least. The dais, however, screamed with voices. Some of them were familiar, some were not., but they all seemed to be in a frenzied rush. Something was happening somewhere. People were screaming for help; others were trying to calm those who seemed to be in hysterics. A few strong voices were calling his name, though Harry didn't know why. Perhaps there were people in the Beyond who could see the danger he was in? His father? His mother? Sirius? Harry turned his head to glance over his shoulder, intrigued, but only for a short moment. Voldemort had moved down the steps and was now only a few feet away from where Harry stood. Harry was only vaguely aware of the Dark Lord's lips moving, but he couldn't hear the words against the uproar that came from past the archway.

The pain in Harry's scar was becoming overwhelming. He felt certain that he was going to pass out. His eyes threatened to roll into the back of his head. He needed to escape, but escape to where? There was nowhere Harry could run to where Voldemort would not be able to reach him. Hogwarts was closed, and no one knew where on earth Dumbeldore went during the summer holidays. No, Harry knew that this was it. He was staring death in the face, and he was doing so alone.

Voldemort raised his wand, and for the first time since he had entered the chamber, Harry heard his voice.

"You will never escape, Potter."

And with that, he let loose the killing curse. Harry spiraled backwards through the dais and into the blackness that lay beyond the whispering curtain of the archway.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure how he had ended up in the water. The shadow of night with the added blackness of the ocean depths made it impossible to see; impossible to breathe. He struggled against it, but the icy cold of the water made it impossible for him to work his limbs. Harry descended, his body numb, though his mind screamed for a savior while his lungs screamed for air.

In one futile attempt Harry opened his mouth to scream physically, but black, chilled water flooded into his mouth and choked him. The scream never came, and Harry, his heart sinking in despair as he sank in the black abyss of this ocean, realized that there would have been no one around to hear it anyway. And so he drifted; in a liquid universe that seemed to hold no beginning or end. Tiny flecks of light floated around him, he noticed after some time; glimmering orbs of pure white light. They circled around Harry like microscopic angels, dancing about his head and fingertips in spiral loops that made him wonder if they were mocking him in his descent, or working in some futile attempt to save him. Not that it mattered, all though Harry was quite amazed that anything could live in this frigid cold.

He could feel the blood in his veins slowing to a halt as his heartbeat decelerated. The only way he could tell that his vision was blurring was because the lights in the water were dimming. He couldn't see his hands anymore, floating out before him and slightly over his head. His feet were lost in the murky waters below him, though Harry didn't make much of an effort to look for them. Harry knew he was dying. He felt his robes whipping around his limp body, and found that beneath them he was wearing his Hogwarts uniform. Confused, Harry looked up as though his answer lie there. He saw the full moon dancing beyond the shifting surface of the ocean and sighed inwardly. He wondered for a moment what Remus' reaction would be to find that Harry had died; drown in some mysterious ocean when they had all thought he was simply asleep in Ron's room. One of the dancing lights wagged before Harry's eyes in some frantic manner. It bounced from his left eye to his right, then back again. He tried to follow it, but his reflexes were far too slow.

He sighed inwardly one last time and began to let the lids of his eyes fall closed so that he might drift eternally in the black chill of the ocean. Then, all of a sudden, Harry felt arms. One slipped tenderly beneath his head, and the other wrapped tightly around his torso. For a moment, he believed it to be a memory of his mother cradling him; once repressed and now brought back as a bliss filled illusion to enjoy in his final moments. His theory, however, was shattered with the sound of a choked voice, speaking as though it were a million miles away.

"Fight it!"

The voice was strange. Fear and anger dripped off every syllable. The invisible arms grew tighter about his body, and he felt the warmth of another close to him. But who was it? "Damn it, Harry! Fight it! Don't you dare give in now! Don't you dare! Don't you even _think _it!"

What am I giving in to? Harry thought, just beginning to sober in his descent. He was drifting in death, if not on the edge of it. Even the strange, glittering specks had abandoned him now. All there was around him was darkness. There was nothing left to let go of, because everything Harry had ever had to hold on to was already gone.

"Come back, Harry!" The voice was begging now. A trembling echo in the shimmering gloom that surrounded. "I know you can hear me! Don't give up now. Don't leave me." There was a sudden silence, broken by the sobbing voice of a young woman he knew well.

"Harry! Harry don't die! Harry please!" It was Hermione! Harry's heart leapt. What was she doing amongst all this gloom? How had she come here? She wasn't....she couldn't be! No, Hermione wasn't dead. Ron had just gotten a letter addressed to both of them the other day from her. Suddenly, another voice was calling out to him, this one was even more familiar because Harry had heard it at every waking moment over the summer.

"Harry, c'mon mate. You've got to pull out of this!" He choked on a sob before continuing. "Harry, you can't die. Not after everything we've been through. You've faced Voldemort more times than I can count...you've been bitten by a Basilisk! We _both _fought a giant our first year to save Hermione! You can't let Voldemort get you now, Harry. You have to wake up!"

Damn it, what was with this waking up crap? Harry fumed, feeling his face grow red with anger now at hearing his best friend repeat the same confusing message that was all Sirius would give him. Harry closed his eyes. To hell with them! What did they mean, wake up? Every waking moment Harry spent with Ron and his family! He'd written Hermione how many times already this summer? Sirius plagued him in his dreams! What did they mean by "wake up"!?!

Suddenly, Harry felt his face come in contact air. An underwater wave had whipped him up onto a beach with gray sand. He sputtered and coughed, fighting to get the water out of his lungs. The arms that had held him in the water now wrapped tighter around him. Harry opened his eyes and found the tear streaked gaze of his godfather staring down at him.

"Sirius?" He coughed, eyes widening against the shock of what he was seeing.

"Harry!" Sirius breathed, picking up the boy's form and holding it close to his own. "Harry, thank God!"

Somewhere in the distance Harry could hear sobs of relief, but he didn't concern himself with them. All he could do was lay still in his godfather's arms, shocked and horrified.

"What the hell just happened?" He gasped.

Sirius swallowed, hard. "You almost died." There was a silent pause, before, "But you're back now. Everything's all right."

But something wasn't right. Harry could feel himself slipping backward again, sinking into the darkness that had consumed him once before.

"No," he whispered, his sightless eyes dying into a frown. "No, it's not."

Sirius' arms tightened around him again. "Harry? No, Harry!"

But he couldn't stop himself. He fell back into unconsciousness, and the icy cold of a black abyss.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Hmmm, interesting, no? Let me know what you think. I hope no one has died from suspense already. Anyway, I know what I want to happen, I just need to figure out how to get there. Bleh._


	7. Echoes in His Mind

When Harry finally pulled out of the trauma that ensnared his mind, he counted himself lucky that it was still so early in the morning. Once again, he'd beaten the sun, and was now staring down a corner in the ultimate darkness of the pre-daylight hours. What the hell had just happened? How? Why? Whatever he had felt hadn't been a dream. It was _more_ than a dream, and more than a nightmare.

Oddly enough...it had seemed real. So incredibly real that for a single moment Harry doubted that where he now was could be called reality. He sat huddled on his bed, knees pressed tightly to his chin and arms wrapped in a vice like grip around his legs. Harry's muscles were tensed to the max, his jaw clenched like a bear trap. His brain was stuck somewhere between the waking world and the horror he had just bared witness to.

Part of him could still feel Sirius' arms wrapped around him. Part of him could still see that tear stained face that had stared with pain filled eyes into his own. He could hear Sirius' dry, cracked voice calling his name. Begging, pleading for Harry to stay with him. With all of them.

A warning bell rang in Harry's head, and he cast a fearful gaze in Ron's direction. The red head was still very fast asleep, his breath coming out in long hisses through his nose, like a small train whistle. His sheets were tangled around his legs with his right arm thrown over the edge of the bed. Ron was on the verge of slipping off of it, but Harry didn't care. He was too distracted with his own thoughts.

In a moment of sheer annoyance and confusion, Harry started grinding his teeth. His jaw muscles worked stiffly as his eyes cast a death-glare to the wall in front of him. What the hell was going on? He asked himself this same question time and time again, with Ron's whistling snores acting as his only answer.

__

Perhaps it would be wise to talk to Remus? Harry thought for a second, staring outside as the first rays of sunlight suddenly leapt past the windowpane and danced on the wall next to him. _No,_ he decided at last. _No I can't bother him with this. I can't bother any of them with this._ _This is my burden and I will bare it on my own._

'That's how you always do it,' answered a voice in his head. One that was not definitely his own. Harry raised an eyebrow.

__

So I **am** going insane then. Harry mentally laughed at himself.

__

'You always fight your battles alone. You think you can't trust anyone with the burdens you bare...too afraid to trust people.'

I am not, Harry thought defensively.

__

'I don't blame you, really,' it came again. '_After all you've been through. Your parents were murdered, at the fault of one of their closest friends no less...the people you lived with were less than civil to you your whole life...'_

Harry frowned. Yes, he knew all of that. Why was his brain going through it all again? He decided he'd humor the little person that seemed to want to believe it was someone else, knowing he had little else to do. Harry mused for a moment; thinking that he might be developing into a schizophrenic, but then that may not turn out to be such a surprise after all the things he'd been bottling up these past few years. Having someone to talk to, even if it was only another part of himself, might not be so bad.

__

'You've lived through two teachers who tried to kill you; outsmarted Voldemort at his own game twice in your life; kept your sanity when you thought a mad man was out after you only to find that he was in fact your last chance at a normal life...'

And lost **him **as well, Harry added with bitterness, for the voice was referring to Sirius.

__

'You've faced dragons and Dark Lords, Dementors and Death Eaters, werewolves and basilisks; and you still manage to smile now and then. You've no proper family, and friends that will never understand what you're going through every day of your life. You have people who care about you, but will never reach out and be what you need them to be...'

This better be going somewhere, Harry grumbled angrily.

__

'And only because they're afraid.'

Harry frowned. Not only was this one sided conversation in the depths of his mind not going anywhere, but it had suddenly taken a very unexpected turn. Afraid? Who was afraid? What was there to be afraid of about Harry?

He looked down at himself and frowned deeper. Harry knew that he was far from intimidating, even at the impressive five foot nine he had now reached during these last few weeks during the summer. He was no longer skinny, but still thin, although he had some muscle from the constant Quidditch training he'd been enduring for the past five years of his life. People knew his strengths, and more importantly they knew what triggered his temper. But what would the Weasley's have to fear from him? What would Ron and Hermione fear him for? What did he mean by people being afraid of him? Unless, it was a different kind of fear.

__

'Afraid to reach out and try to take the place of something you lost.'

That hadn't helped at all either.

__

'No proper family, though everyone would be more than willing to make you part of their own if they could.' Harry wasn't liking where the voice was going. He pulled his hands up over his ears and tried to drown out the voice with soft humming. It didn't work. The voice kept going, on and on about things Harry didn't want to hear. He allowed himself to hum louder, but nothing could swallow the sorrowful words of the voice. He caught more dialogue through gritted teeth and a screaming mind; _'...all been afraid to get close Harry, simply because we didn't want you to push away.'_

What did it mean?

__

'...kept our distance; drew a barrier line for ourselves and waited for you to cross over it when you were ready...'

Harry bit his lip, hoping that the pain would distract him from the words.

__

'...wasn't the wisest thing to do, for although we were prepared to die for the new reign of Voldemort, we never planned on losing you too...'

Harry shook his head, his hands pressed painfully tight over his ears. He bit his lip harder, blood trickling in thin lines down his chin.

__

'Now we're faced with that possibility and we don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I can only sit here and wish I'd done more when I could have.'

"STOP!" Harry screamed at the top of his lungs. Ron shot up, taking in long breaths and looking panic stricken at Harry, who had his hands pressed tightly over his head with blood running down his chin. The thin streams of light now coming through the window showed how pale he was.

"Harry?" Ron leapt from his bed and gripped his best friend around the shoulders, pulling him back down. Harry jumped at his touch and looked into the bright and glistening eyes of Ronald Weasley. He felt himself drift back into reality, and the voice died away in his head as though it never were. "What's wrong?" Ron asked, looking quite shaken.  
Fred and George burst into their bedroom a few seconds later, wands brandished as though they had expected to find an attacker.

"What's up?" Fred frowned, looking slightly disheartened. "We were all ready to kick ass."

"Harry had another attack, I think," Ron answered.

"No, I didn't," Harry snarled viciously. He was so sick of people tending to him like a wounded child. He was anything but these days, or so he liked to believe. "Go back to bed, I'm fine."

George looked like he was ready to protest, but another glare from Harry and he was silenced. The twins left together with one last questioning glance back at Ron. When they had gone, Harry could feel the eyes of his friend laying upon him heavily.

"What's gotten into you?" Ron asked all of a sudden. "You've been acting strange lately."

__

You try hearing voices in your head and see how well you take it, Harry thought bitterly as he pulled the sheets of his bed up.

"Go back to bed, Ron." Was all Harry had to say. It was still early, and Harry wanted to log in a few more minutes of sleep before he started the day.

Ron sighed. "C'mon mate, talk to me."

Harry didn't answer.


	8. The Lonely Hero

_Wow! You know I never expected this story to take off quite like it has. Thanks guys for all your reviews. However, I'm refraining from answering questions in fear of giving anything away. Quite a few of you are on the right track to what's going on here, but, well like I said, I don't want to give anything away. _

_**P.s.** As a thank you to everyone for the 11 reviews submitted to the past chapter alone, I've decided to give you chapter eight ahead of schedule. Take care everyone, and keep reviewing!_

_

* * *

_

Harry spoke very little after that. If he ever said anything at all, it was only because he had been addressed beforehand. Otherwise, Harry spoke rarely, and avoided eye contact with everyone. Even Remus, who had stopped by again to visit; and check up on Harry. Remus stayed later this time after noticing very quickly his sudden change in attitude towards everything. Harry hadn't displayed the usual cheery greeting upon seeing his old school teacher at the breakfast table that morning, and Harry had completely forgotten about the book he'd been so eager to show Remus in his last letter. It was Ginny who had reminded him to go get it for him.

"Have you read much more of it lately?" Remus asked, thumbing through the pages. Harry shook his head, taking a seat across from Remus as they enjoyed some time alone in the sitting room that evening. Remus eyed Harry as casually as possible, but concern soon started to leak through his tired eyes and Harry felt himself grow very uncomfortable under the steady gaze of his old Professor. "Is there something bothering you, Harry?" Remus inquired after a long silence. "You look tired."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose I am...a little."

"Been up all night?" Remus afforded a slight grin. Harry shook his head. Remus tried something else. "Not sleeping well?"

"You could say that."

This particular answer took Remus aback slightly. He hadn't expected Harry to be honest with him, only so that he wouldn't be probed for answers. Not that Remus ever did that, but Harry was used to others doing so. _I suppose that's my job too now,_ he thought dryly. A frown creased his worn features, causing Harry's gaze to fall upon him.

"Are _you_ all right?"

He peered up at Harry, rather amazed that this young man had come to realize Remus' own personal plight.

"I'm as good as ever," Remus responded with a forced smile.

Harry sunk a little deeper into his chair. "That good, eh?"

Remus chuckled slightly, closing the book and setting it down on the coffee table. "Isn't it always that way, though?"

Harry nodded. Some more silence followed. Remus staring at the cover of the book before him while Harry's eyes kept flying to the window nearest them.

"The weather's been nice," Remus stated, noting the longing look Harry had in his eyes.

"It has."

Shifting a bit in his seat, Remus wondered what else there was to say. He wouldn't dare force Harry to talk about whatever was ailing him, only because it would be pointless. Remus wouldn't be able to offer any solace to Harry's mourning heart when his own was in the same position. Sirius had been the last person on earth Remus could confide in. The last person Remus could talk to and trust, could laugh with, or weep with when October's end drew near, and the lingering memory of what they had both lost, and why, was too much to humanely bare.

Sirius had been much of the same thing to Harry as well. He was the closest thing to a family Harry would have had the privilege to know, and now that too was gone. There was nothing to say to a situation like that, Remus knew. But he wasn't sure if he should step up to the plate and take Sirius' place, or give Harry the distance everyone else seemed to think he needed.

The question was, what _did_ Harry need?

"Would you like to step outside?"

Harry's head jumped up at the invitation. He accepted, and together they stepped out into the dark evening. The first thing they both noticed was the stars. The moon came second. All shone brilliantly in the night. Far away were the muggle cities that cast so much light that it was hard to see the stars and moon, but here at the Burrow the stars were always radiant. It was a gift to both Harry and Remus that night to find the Dog Star shining brightly over both of their heads.

Instinctively, Remus' eyes shot straight up to the luminescent orb that hovered over their heads. It was almost symbolic. Almost.

Remus sighed sadly. "There it is."

Harry looked up, wondering what Remus could possibly mean. Then, all of a sudden, he saw it.

There was Sirius.

Harry grimaced.

_

* * *

_

The star seemed so much brighter tonight. It was pulsating noticeably. _Just the atmosphere obstructing my view,_ he thought dryly. There was no significance in it.

Remus had another thought on his mind. "Sirius is looking down on you," he stated, a cough interrupting his words.

A dark scowl suddenly fell over Harry's features. Sirius wasn't watching over him. Sirius was a small light in the nighttime sky. Hundreds of light years away, it was something different. A great pulsating globe of gasses and elements, burning off hundreds of thousands of degrees of heat. But here, to Harry, that little pinprick was, well, just that. A spot in the sky, and it offered Harry no warmth this night. Nor had it any other night. Sirius was not watching over him. Sirius was just there; as he had always been.

...As _it_ had always been.

Remus seemed to read Harry's thoughts at that moment. He frowned, saying, "Maybe that should tell you something."

"That doesn't tell me anything," Harry snapped quietly. "Sirius isn't watching over me; Sirius isn't here anymore. You know that."

Remus sighed.

"Don't be so certain."

Harry turned. He was about to ask what the hell that had meant, exactly. He might have followed that up with the statement 'You don't know anything,' or 'That's such a foolish belief.' But part of Harry _wanted_ to believe that. A great part of Harry's heart wanted to believe that Sirius wasn't gone at all. He wanted to think that they had only been separated for a short time, and would meet again soon.

But another part of Harry knew that he'd never see Sirius again. Not in this life. Harry didn't believe in reincarnation, and if there was a life beyond this one, it was too far away for Harry to dwell on those he had lost. He allowed himself a soft, mournful sigh and wiped a tear from his eye.

Remus noticed this. He didn't bother to hide his own as Harry collapsed into his arms. They held an embrace for a long period of time with no eyes watching them from the Burrow, or anywhere else. Only the stars bore witness to the breaking of their hearts for the last time.

_

* * *

_

Remus left without going in that night. Harry found the walk to his and Ron's room lonely, no matter how short. He'd just shared with Remus all the things that had been in his heart for too long. Part of him was glad for it, and another part of him knew that when he woke he'd regret the weakness he'd shown in the eyes of his Professor.

When Harry entered his room, Ron was already in bed. He was sitting up, slumped against the pillows he'd acquired from Fred and George's room in an attempt for revenge.

Harry had overheard the story this morning that the twins had snuck into their room early in the morning (presumably after Harry's spell) and slipped a few spiders into his bed. Harry wasn't certain how he had missed Ron's high pitched shrieks, although it could have happened while he was in the shower.

"Remus gone?" Ron asked. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was peering intensely at Harry, making him quite uncomfortable.

"Yeah," Harry answered, picking up his pajamas and heading toward the bathroom. When Harry got there, the lanterns never came on. He frowned, flicking a few of them with his fingers in hopes that maybe the spells had just shorted out. Nothing. Harry cursed and decided that he'd rather get dressed in the dark than kick Ron out of their room.

Just as he started to unbutton his shirt, a wave of pain shot through his head. Harry doubled over, biting his tongue so as to not scream out in pain. Another wave followed. Harry slipped backward and slammed his head into the tub, causing a loud "thud" to echo through the bathroom and well into the hall. Blackness swallowed his vision, but he could hear someone calling his name.

_

* * *

"It happened again?" _

"Yes, but not as bad this time."

"Well, that's good. How's he doing?"

"He's no better, and he's no worse."

"Is that good news?"

"You tell me."

* * *

Harry opened his eyes and became aware of his surroundings almost immediately. He was alone in a hospital room. St. Mungo's, no doubt. But where was everyone? How did he get here? He found a clock nearby and saw that it was nearing three o'clock in the morning. Harry frowned. Chances were no one was waiting up for him this early.

Sighing, Harry leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes.

"How are you holding up?"

His eyes shot open. Harry looked around, waiting for the hidden person to reveal his or herself.

"Hello?" he asked into the darkness. "Is anyone there?"

No answer. Harry sighed again and fell back into the hospital pillows. At least he was away from the concerned gazes, prying eyes, and inane questions of his friends. Closing his eyes, Harry elected to sleep soundly through the first peaceful night he'd had in ages.

"I'm holding up."

Harry's frown deepened. He didn't bother to open his eyes, he simply rolled over.

"You really should go get some rest."

"No, that's all right. I'll stay."

Cursing, he sat straight up in his bed. He was completely alone in the room. There was no where someone could hide that he couldn't see. What really bothered him though was that there was more than one person.

"All right," Harry stated, pulling his knees up to his chin and hugging them tightly to his frame. "I'm going insane."

"It's been weeks. What are you going to do if he never wakes up?"

"I _am _awake," Harry snarled through gritted teeth. He began to grind them together furiously. Insanity wasn't supposed to be annoying. At least that was what Harry had always believed.

"He'll wake."

"I AM AWAKE!" Harry shouted at the top of his lungs. To his astonishment, no one came in response to his yells. "It's a good thing I'm not being murdered in here," he said with a bitter scowl. "Maybe they've taken a leaf from Fudge's book and decided I'm better off dead as well."

The thought was unnerving that no one cared whether or not he was alive or dead. He'd never really thought to consider it before. Somehow, he had always made it through life without ever once considering if he had anything worth living for. Harry had never realized how alone he was in the world. He had no family, only his friends and Remus. And in reality, what were they?

As he drifted in thought, Harry slowly became aware of how very dejected and depressed he felt. It was funny, in a sense. He was a hero on numerous counts, and yet he had nothing worth fighting for. He was the lonely hero of a sad story that everyone knew, but didn't know well enough.

People seemed to forget that heroes needed saving too.

"The great Harry Potter," Harry guffawed, glancing over at the clock once more. "What a joke."

"You are putting too much hope in a person who has probably already let go."

Wonder what that's like, Harry mused sardonically.

"He hasn't let go."

Oh, haven't I?

"What does he have to hold on to?"

I've been asking myself that for a long time now.

"He has me, Remus."

Harry's heart jumped. Where the hell were those voices coming from? He leapt from the hospital bed, nearly destroyed the room in his search, and came up empty handed. The voices had ceased as well, and Harry was left feeling alone once more.

"Damn," Harry hissed as he allowed himself to fall to the floor in a mournful heap. He was beginning to like these mysterious voices. They made him feel like he wasn't quite alone. "Where are you?" he whispered into the darkness.

Shadows surrounded him wherever he turned, and for all Harry's effort he couldn't find a light. Even the window showed no sign of a moon or stars beyond its glass. All was black, save for the illuminated numbers of the clock, but even those seemed a cruel mockery in comparison to this enveloping blackness.

Harry began to sob like a child, much to his own disgust. Yet since there was no one around to hear, he allowed the tears to fall. The pain was too much to hold onto anymore. "Sirius, where are you?" he gasped between breaths. "I can't do it alone. I don't _want _to do it alone!" He stopped, waiting for an answer. There was none. "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO!?!" Harry suddenly shrieked into the impenetrable darkness of his room. Or his mind. There didn't seem to be much of a difference anymore. "DID YOU EVER STOP TO THINK OF WHAT I'D DO IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO YOU?! DID YOU EVER THINK THAT MAYBE I NEEDED YOU TOO? WERE YOU TRYING TO BE A HERO, SIRIUS? IS THAT IT? DID YOU THINK YOU HAD HAD TO PROVE SOMETHING?!"

The silence broke Harry's heart. He crawled, crippled from emotional exhaustion, into a corner, and in a groundswell of selfish hatred, he wished that death would find him and take him away. But nothing came. Ironically, at the one point in Harry's life where he wished for death, it wasn't there.

"You didn't have anything to prove..."

Harry continued to weep, his face now buried in his hands. "Not to me..."

_

* * *

_

"Harry! Harry wake up!"

Someone was shaking him violently. He expected to still be weeping in the corner of his hospital room when he opened his eyes, but he wasn't.

"What? Where am I?" Harry grumbled, sitting up groggily. He was back in Ron's room. The sun had risen now. It was the first time Harry had woken up to find sunlight in their room for a long time. The image seemed alien.

"You're here. Where else would you be?" Ron frowned. Harry thought of about a million different answers to that question considering the past few days, but he never said anything. "You were having a bad dream."

Harry rubbed his left temple lightly. There was a lump there. Apparently collapsing in the Weasley's bathroom hadn't been part of that dream. "Are you all right?"

Harry bit his lip as another wave of pain shot through his head. It wasn't from his scar. His finger had nicked the tender flesh of his knot. Harry groaned, but nodded his head which caused it to spin rapidly.

"You look like you're going to be sick."

"I think I might be," Harry answered honestly. "How did I get back here?"

"I dragged you in. Fred and George helped."

"Thanks."

"What happened?"

Harry swooned after having stood from his cot. Ron caught him and eased him back. "I think you should lay down for a while longer," Ron stated. "I'll get mum."

"No, don't!" Harry shot back up. "I'm fine."

Ron frowned. "No, you're not," he argued immediately. "You had two attacks, your foot's been cut, and you keep having nightmares that I have trouble waking you from. You're going to Mungo's."

"I'll deny it," Harry said firmly, leaving no room for Ron to doubt his threat.

"Which will not be very convincing with Fred and George backing me up."

"Ron, please, I don't want the attention."

"Attention?" Ron seemed quite taken aback. "Attention? Harry it's not attention. Everyone's _worried _about you!"

"I don't want them to worry!" Harry shot back.

"Well they do," Ron argued back just as fiercely. "And they're only going to worry more. You can't keep pushing everyone away, Harry."

"Why?" Harry fumed. "Everyone I care about gets killed! Don't you think I'm doing them a favor!"

"No, Harry, you aren't!"

Both of their voices were raised high enough for everyone in the house to hear, but neither of them cared.

"How can you say that!?"

"Because a real friend will stand by you no matter what the cost! Everyone you know is willing to risk their life to save you! Do you know why?"

"Because they feel like they own something to my parents, I'm sure," Harry muttered.

What happened next shocked both Harry and Ron beyond anything they'd ever experienced before. The swallowed anger in Ron's heart leapt out in a single instant; he balled up his fist and socked Harry directly in the jaw. It wasn't a devastating blow, but it sent Harry's glasses flying across the room and the both of them toppled over the cot and landed with a very hard '_thud' _on the floor.

Harry simply lie there, stunned. The pain in his head had just increased tenfold within the past few seconds. He couldn't form a coherent thought or word, but simply lay on the floor staring into Ron's astonished face.

"Harry...Harry I'm sorry!" he gasped at once. "I didn't...I couldn't...I...I was just..."

Harry opened his mouth to stretch his sore jaw. A loud _pop_ sounded loud enough to make Ron think someone had apparated into the room. Harry knew otherwise. His jaw wasn't broken, but he'd have a very smart bruise on his left cheek when he went down to breakfast that morning. A perfect color contrast to match the knot on his temple.

Harry was pretty sure no one would believe he simply rolled off his bed in the middle of the night.

"Are you all right?" Harry finally got the nerve to ask, not really certain if he cared whether or not Ron was well or if he had broken all of his ribs.

"F-fine."

"Don't do that again." Harry stood and stretched. Ron followed, shaking as he reached to gather some clothes.

"Harry...I'm really, _really _sorry."

"I know."

Ron looked as though he were about to cry. He rushed out of the room, leaving Harry to sit and consider the past few hours alone.


	9. A Rapidly Fraying Rope

Hmmm, I do rather enjoy cliff-hangers, don't I? My sincerest apologies, I never realized that I leave people hanging at the end of just about every chapter. I think it's just natural. I guess I'm going to have to work on that.

Anyway, I'm asking for honest feedback on the full story so far on this next chapter, all right? Please give me real juicy reviews because, well, as you know, everyone loves those. Also, I'm open to suggestions. My muses, Sirius and Remus (yes, they are my official muses for Harry Potter stories) seem to have taken a very long tea break and I'm left in the dry dust over here wondering what the heck I'm going to pull up next for you folks.

Many thanks to the reviewers. I appreciate all of your kind words.

* * *

Harry did not meet Ron's gaze that morning.

His conversations with anyone were brief and delicately worded. No one asked about the bruise on his jaw or the knot on his temple so Harry assumed Ron had already told the story of their row upstairs. He dismissed the concerned glances cast at him from all Weasleys and took to reading the rest of his book on the Dark Arts in the secluded study near the back of the Burrow. Everyone was wise enough to leave him well alone for most of the day. Even Ginny kept her distance, though part of Harry wished she hadn't. Still, the space was a relief that Harry had been in need of for some time. The Weasleys were wonderful, and the closest thing to a family Harry knew, but he needed his liberty. There were times when he just wished he could leap onto his broomstick and soar to nowhere in particular and linger there for hours. Of course, no one would allow such a thing. With Voldemort nearing full power and his followers growing in number and strength, allowing Harry out on a solo evening broom ride would be the equivalent of painting a very large target on his chest and placing him in the center of a Death Eaters' convention. At least in the eyes of his paranoid protectors and friends it would be.

Unfortunately, Harry could not argue that no matter where he went, trouble or attention always followed. It was simply for his protection, and he knew that as well as anyone. Unfortunately, the vigilant eyes of so many came as more of a bother than a relief, and part of Harry wished to just get his final encounter with Voldemort over with, regardless of the outcome. At least then everything would be over in one sense or another.

That thought caused Harry to stop reading for a moment. He lifted his gaze and peered at the wall. Someone looking in on him might have thought he had just suddenly been fixated with the thing, but that wasn't the case. Harry's mind was entirely somewhere else. The thought, the very possibility of death had lingered in the back of Harry's mind since the hour Sirius had gone. What he hadn't considered, however, was what he might do were he victorious.

Such a thing seemed unlikely, though Harry knew well enough that he had once before vanquished Lord Voldemort as a mere infant. The likelihood of it happening again was not feasible to him. But what if he did win out over Voldemort? What if he succeeded in killing him? Then what? What would life be like for him? Avenging the dead did not bring them back. From the moment Voldemort ceased taking breath, his mother and father would still be very much dead, and Sirius would remain forever lost to him. The question that had haunted Harry the other night in his dream came back now in the waking world, and the fact that Harry had no answer was both unnerving and depressing.

What do I have to live for?

As hard as it was for Harry to swallow the tears that were pressing at the back of his eyes, he somehow managed it. When he forced himself to look up, he was fortunate enough to spy, of all things, the clock nearest him. It was closing in on twelve o'clock, and everyone had gone to bed. Harry sighed and closed the book, rubbing his dry, tired eyes with the palms of his hands. Everyday was becoming a personal battle to hold on to his sanity, and everyday Harry's grip loosened on the end of that rapidly fraying rope. It wasn't fair, but Harry was used to that.

It was the lingering pain that made the simplest points of existence so hard.

"You must hate me," Harry said, not looking up from where his face was nested in his hands. Something in his head had slipped out of place, and Harry was talking not to an empty chair near the fire, but the shadow of a memory that he had buried in his head.

"How could I hate you?" said the memory. "After all I've done for you, how could you ever think that?"

"Then why did you leave?"

A sad smile came across that worn face. Harry looked up and saw the ethereal shadow of his godfather sitting before him, just as casually as ever; as if they'd been living together at Grimmauld Place all this time. It wasn't real, simply a manifestation between Harry's grieving heart and his exhausted mind. It was real enough, however, to give Harry a few moments of pure comfort. He allowed himself the illusion of words he'd never gotten the chance to speak to Sirius when they were alone.

"And before you tell me you haven't left me, don't. You can spare me that if you don't mind."

To Harry's surprise (even though it was his illusion he had made) Sirius laughed. "All those nightmares catching up with you?" Harry nodded. "You shouldn't think on them."

"How can I not? In every damn one I see your face; I hear your voice; I feel your presence. Tell me how to dismiss that, Sirius! Tell me!"

Much to his dismay, Sirius only shook his head. "I don't know what to say Harry, just that you need to let go."

"I can't let go," Harry argued. "You're all I ever had to hold on to."

"So everyone keeps saying," Sirius stated with a knowing grin. Harry frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You think you can't do it without me, when you never thought back on all those years you _did_ do it without me."

"That was different," said Harry as he started up on the defense. "I didn't know I had something to hold onto then."

"So why is it different now, Harry?"

He sighed. "Because I had something wonderful given to me, and then suddenly, just when I had grown accustomed to the idea of your presence, of having something like a family, you were taken away." He paused. "I feel like life is just taunting me. I get something good and then it's ripped away, and all the while I hear a little voice inside my head saying 'You lose again, Harry.'"

It was Sirius' turn to sigh. "You haven't lost, Harry."

"Not yet."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Harry shook his head. "You told me once, that I didn't understand. That there were things worth dying for." He paused again, trying desperately to find the right words. "If I didn't understand then, I do now. You were worth dying for Sirius."

"No, I wasn't," Sirius argued, pointing a finger in Harry's direction. "Nothing is worth _your_ life."

"That's _your_ biased opinion," Harry snapped.

Frustration flared in Sirius' eyes. He gritted his teeth for a few seconds before finding his words. "Mine and the opinions of at least a dozen other people, and that's not even counting the Weasleys."

"Let's not then and leave it at a dozen."

"Why are you so against it? You'rr fifteen, going on sixteen, according to the books you should fear death."

"What books, Sirius? And you can't fear something you've stared in the face, especially if you've done so more than once."

"Voldemort doesn't count the same as death."

"Then I can still name experiences of staring death in the face. Pick a time and I'll tell you the story."

"It's late. You should wait."

"What's the matter, don't want to hear about it?"

Sirius frowned. "Maybe I don't."

"Pity."

"Harry?"

He jumped and turned to find Ron staring wide eyed at him from the threshold of the study.

"What is it?" Harry asked, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.

Ron bit his lip, glanced around the room, then allowed his gaze to fall back on Harry. "Who are you talking to?"

"Myself," he answered sardonically. "What do you want?"

Ron didn't answer. He slipped away from the door and went back to bed, or so Harry guessed.

"You need to work on your relationships a bit more."

Harry's eyes rounded in the imagined Sirius for the last time that night.

"As if you're one to talk. Why don't you go find a curtain and fall through it or something?" With that he stormed out.

_

* * *

_

The next day, Harry retreated once more to the study in the back of the burrow. He continued on with his reading for most of the morning and early afternoon when a light knock rapped on the door.

"May I come in?"

It was Remus.

"Yes, of course."

The door creaked open and snicked shut behind him. Remus cleared his throat, making very few motions. None of them very fast or eager. Harry frowned. "I don't bite, you know. You can take a seat."

Remus forced a laugh. "That's not what I've heard." He took a seat hesitatnly across from Harry.

"Well I suppose that would depend upon the credibility of your source," Harry said shrewdly. He let his book drop to the floor and peered intensely at his old school professor. "You're not here for a happy 'Howdy-do' are you?"

A thin and steady stream of air hissed through Remus' teeth. He seemed tired and worn. The lines in his face emphasized by a brow creased in growing concern. Without a word needing to be spoken, Harry realized that he already knew what Remus was trying to bring himself to say.

"I was informed this evening of your, erm, episode earlier today." Remus paused, fiddling with a fraying thread on his sleeve. The action annoyed Harry, and he wished that Lupin would just get on with it. "I don't think I need to tell you that we're all worried about you."

"No, you don't," Harry said shortly. "Is that all?"

Remus frowned. A flicker of annoyance crossed his eyes, both surprising and intriguing Harry, though he wasn't sure why.

"Molly wants to take you to see a healer at Mungo's."

It was Harry's turn to frown. "I'm not ill."

"Yes, you are."

His frown deepened. "Am I?"

Remus sighed before continuing. "In a sense. There are different kinds of illness, Harry."

"You all think I'm going mental, don't you?"

Lupin's eyes shot a firm glare in Harry's direction. "We're all going mental, if you want to use that terminology, Harry," he spat. "But you're taking it worse than anyone. We want to help you because we care about you."

Harry fell silent. He didn't want to argue that statement. He wasn't certain that he could. A look of bemusement fell across Remus' features. He stood from his chair and kneeled beside Harry, taking the boy's shoulder in his right hand.

"You've been through a lot, Harry. Too much, especially for someone so young. But you can't keep hiding behind a curtain of denial. You're going to have to accept that Sirius is gone."

Harry stood, not comfortable with the gesture Remus had bestowed upon him. The other night they'd wept side by side beneath a nighttime sky...now Harry was finding it difficult to even look at his old professor.

"I have accepted, Remus," Harry snapped quietly. "The fact is, Sirius won't let go of _me_."

Remus frowned, standing before Harry with his arms crossed over his chest. His brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"He haunts me!" Harry nearly bellowed. "Every waking moment and every night when I try to sleep. I hear his voice at breakfast when I'm talking to Ron and Ginny! I feel his presence when I'm alone in this study! I feel his arms when I'm sleeping and I hear him calling my name! I'm not the one who needs to let go; it's him!"

Remus' face paled noticeably, even in the dim lighting of the study. He stiffened and exited the room with Harry's eyes following after. A few moments later, Remus returned. His outdoor robes, and Harry's, folded over his arms.

"Let's go."

"Where?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed as anger crept into his chest.

"To Mungos. You're worse than I expected."


	10. From the Mouth of a Wolf

Wow, another marvelous influx of reviews! (dances) Thanks guys, you all rock! I think I've only got a few more chapters to go though.

* * *

One Week Later...

Healer and Psychological Specialist Doctor Abendigo Montel peered over at the admission papers of his newest patient.

"This can't be right," he said, filing through the manila folder again. His assistant, Madre Day, peered at him over her horn rimmed bifocals from her desk in the corner of the lobby. A grim expression pressed her lips into a very tight line.

" 'Fraid it is, sir," she answered. Abendigo sniffed and set the folder aside.

"I suppose it was just a matter of time."

"A matter of time?"

Abendigo stood from his desk and headed to the mental wards of Mungos; corridors full of patients who suffered from all sorts of dilemmas and delusions, and now the already hopeless patients were being joined by another tonight. After a week of tests and studies, the great Harry Potter had finally been admitted to Mungos' ward for the mentally disturbed.

"Yes, Miss Day," said Abendigo, pulling his impeccably white healer's robe over his regular wizarding ones. With a steady sigh, he straightened his stance and exited his office, journeying down the passageways of dizzying white walls until at last he reached room number 417. He did not bother to knock.

Lifting a key from his pocket, Abendigo twisted the knob of the windowless door and entered. There, standing near the barred window and peering out as though he were desperately searching for an escape, was the famous Harry Potter.

"Good morning!" Abendigo greeted cheerily, taking a seat in the corner. Harry said nothing. Abendigo cleared his throat. "How are you today, Harry?"

There was a long pause. Harry's teeth gnashed angrily, his jaw working ferociously along with the wheels in his head. He didn't seem insane, Abendigo noted with a twinge of suspicion. But then, there were other patients here that, at a glance, seemed just as sane as anyone else.

"Harry?" Abendigo asked gently.

"Fine."

The doctor nodded. "Good, good. Anything I can get you?"

Another pause. Then, "No."

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Harry?" Abendigo asked. He whipped out a small quill and let lose a small roll of parchment. Settled in his seat, and quite ready to listen to whatever it was this boy had to say, Abendigo waited.

And waited...and waited.

"Harry?"

"I have nothing to say."

"Oh, but you must," said Abendigo with a certainty in his dry smile that made Harry's brow crease in anger. "Otherwise--"

"Otherwise _what_?" Harry challenged vehemently. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here?"

Abendigo ceased in his writing and peered up into Harry's eyes. For the first time, the young boy and turned to fully face him. His eyes were a brilliant shade of green, one that would put any emerald to shame. Their glow was only enforced by the weight of his anger. He was intimidating, Abendigo found himself ashamed to admit. All his training had taught him to never once fear the patient. Never give in to their demands, or acquiesce to their pleas. All that training had been for naught as his nerve slipped under the gaze of a sixteen year old boy who had been through more than should have ever been allowed.

A slight look of pleasure washed over that young, ashen face as Abendigo squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

"Perhaps," he continued, finally finding his voice. "But aside from that--"

"I have nothing to say to you," Harry said very matter-of-factly. With that he turned back to the window, his gaze following those who walked freely below him.

Abendigo sighed. He gathered his things and left, feeling disheartened and angry.

_

* * *

_

"May I see him?"

Madre Day looked up from her desk in the lobby. Abendigo Montel had not returned to the office after his visit with Potter.

"Not without the Doctor's consent."

"Please," the man begged. He was a disheveled, haphazard looking creature who had undoubtedly seen better days. He had shoulder length, shaggy blonde hair that was streaked through with strong highlights of grey. His eyes, which in the past may have been a brilliant blue, were now shadowed with darker years that Madre did not truly wish to know of. "I must see him. It's very important."

Madre clicked her tongue behind her teeth as she tapped the tip of her quill upon a blank sheet of parchment. If Abendigo discovered what she were about to allow...

"Very well, Mr. Lupin, but do not make a scene of yourself and do not stay longer than is necessary."

A very relieved smile swept over Remus' face. He thanked Miss Day numerous times before springing into the hall toward room number 417.

_

* * *

_

Harry sat in a chair near the window. His knees were pulled up tight toward his chest, his chin perched between the knobby little things as his eyes gazed steadfast out toward the sinking sun. The hustling of nurses and Mungo personnel could be heard just outside his door, but Harry didn't bother with them. All he wanted was solace from the echoes in his head.

'He's giving up...he's letting go....why can't you do the same?'

Stretching his shoulders, Harry slumped into the back of the chair. He let his feet fall to touch the floor.

I'm trying, Harry thought bitterly while biting his lip. _I can't let go if you won't do the same._

'I can't give up...not now...'

A rap on the door interrupted Harry's thoughts. He turned to acknowledge this newcomer. Nurses and doctors didn't knock, Harry learned quite early enough in his stay. Did he have a visitor? Who?

His question was answered when Remus Lupin slipped through the doorway. He smiled at Harry, forcing as much joy and warmth as he could into the creased face that seemed aged beyond it's natural time. Harry did not bother to return the expression.

"Come to put the straight jacket on me?" He asked bitterly, turning back to the window.

Remus didn't laugh. Whether he was supposed to or not he wasn't sure, but he had found little humor in the comment directed at him just now.

"Harry, why are you doing this to yourself?" Remus asked, not bothering with a greeting.

Getting straight down to business, are we? thought Harry with an even greater twinge of resentment. _Very well._

"What am I doing, Remus? Tell me. Everyone seems to know what's so good for me, why don't you tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

If that hadn't been a slap in the face, Harry didn't know what was. Not that he cared. It was the least he could do to return the 'favor' Remus and the Weasley's had bestowed upon him for caring. Caring, Harry believed, far too much.

"Harry, you must face the facts. Sirius is gone."

"I never said that he wasn't."

"Then why are you doing this?"

Harry stopped. He considered this question delicately, realizing that neither sarcasm nor cynicism would get him far here now.

"I'm not doing it." Harry paused, waiting for a retaliation. There wasn't one. "I don't know what it is. Every day I wake up. I know Sirius isn't there. He never will be there. I've accepted that, even though I'm not happy with it. But I can't get it out of my head. I'm seeing him. I'm hearing him." Harry stopped, turning to look at Remus with a very intense gaze. Remus did not shift, but Harry could feel his trembling beneath the stare issued toward him. "None of you understand. I've been targeted before by Voldemort, by Death Eaters, by anything. But this is different and I don't know how to tell you...part of Sirius _is _alive...somewhere...and it's screaming and clawing at whatever will listen, trying to find a way out."

"And you're the vessel it's chosen?" Remus asked. Harry noted a very strong hint of skepticism in Lupin's voice.

"Why not? I seem to be a favorite choice for all sorts of things like this."

There was a very strange silence that rang in the air after Harry's words. For a moment, he thought that he had perhaps imagined Lupin's presence as well. But as Harry turned his head, he found that Remus was still there, very much on the physical plane. He didn't seem to be listening, however. His face was buried deep in his hands. His shoulders were heaving. He was crying.

If this didn't confuse Harry, it certainly made him angry. He found himself drifting through both as he unwilling stood and rested a hand on Remus' shoulder. A stiff attempt to comfort the person who had put him here to begin with.

"Remus, what is it?"

There was no response for a very long time, in which Remus only sat and sobbed silently. Harry partially wished that someone would come and take him away. He didn't know what to do or what to say to make Remus stop behaving this way, and part of him wasn't sure why he really cared anymore. Panicking between mixed emotions, Harry shook Remus violently.

"Remus!" He hissed through clenched teeth. "Remus stop this! What's wrong?"

The man looked up at Harry as though seeing him for the first time. His eyes were swollen as though he had been crying for hours, not just a few minutes. His face had suddenly lost a great deal of weight and even more of its color. He looked poor and beaten, like an aged statue that had been eroded away, with only the most vague impression of its past form left to be shown for the splendor it had once been. For the first time in weeks, Harry felt a twinge of pity for someone that was neither himself or Sirius.

"Harry?" Remus rasped. His voice was strange, as though it were coming from a great distance over distorted planes. "Harry, is that really you?"

Harry's eyes widened in fear. "Bloody hell," he whispered, backing away. "And they say _I'm_ losing it?"

Remus stood and looked as though he were about to embrace Harry, but his gaze was soon turned, peering curiously at their surroundings. Remus' body shook as though he were having a mild seizure, but he didn't seem to notice. He was too overjoyed at the sight of Harry.

"Harry, where are we?" he asked in a very dry whisper.

"We're at Mungos." Harry raised an eyebrow. His heart was beating in his chest. What was wrong with Remus? Why was he acting so strangely?

"Still?"

This statement took Harry by complete surprise. "What do you mean, 'Still?', you've been here for the past ten minutes talking to me."

The head of shaggy blonde hair with streaks of grey rounded on Harry, but there was no anger in his eyes. There was no sense of sternness or an uncharacteristic lack of patience. It was the real Remus. Beneath that starved, frightening mask, was the man Harry had met in his third year at Hogwarts who had taken him under his wing and tacitly sworn to protect him against all evils that might come. Where that man had gone in the past, Harry was not sure, but the sight of him here and now filled Harry with hope.

"No I haven't...I've only just fallen asleep. I was in the lobby at Mungos...in the Critical Condition ward."

"Critical condition?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Who's in Critical Condition?" Realization dawned on him. "Oh God, has something happened to one of the Weasleys?"

"No, Harry!" Remus raised his hands in a very swift motion. "No! _You're_ the one in Critical Condition."

Harry stopped, swallowing both the bile that was threatening in his throat, and his confusion. "I'm waiting for the punch line, Remus." Harry said at last, placing his hands on his hips.

A smile cracked the pale surface of Lupin's countenance. "You don't understand, Harry. We've been waiting for you for weeks."

"Waiting for me?" Harry repeated. "What do you mean? Who's been waiting? Waiting for me to do what?"

Remus stepped forward and grasped Harry's hands in his own. His thumbs danced over the back of Harry's hands as his eyes gazed down onto his face.

"Waiting for you to pull through."

Trembling, Harry found the strength to ask one more question.

"You mean...to wake up?"

Remus smiled as tears formed in his eyes. Suddenly, an echoing voice grew to fill the room. Harry looked up, trying to hide his reaction. But Remus heard it too.

"What is that?" Remus asked, frowning.

"What I've been hearing for the past few weeks," Harry answered with an elongated sigh. Words soon started to form from the incoherent whispers, calling out at them from the shadows of an unknown world.

"Remus...Remus wake up."

Remus looked up and around, terrified.

"No!" He gasped desperately. His grip on Harry became tighter, almost painful in fact. "No, not yet!"

"What is it?" Harry asked, his voice raised in fear.

"They're trying to wake me up."

Harry grit his teeth. "I don't understand! What's going on?!"

Remus lifted his arms and held Harry at arm's length at his shoulders. His eyes gazed deeply into Harry's, showing a severe sternness that left no room for questioning. "Harry, you must promise me this. Don't give up, do you hear me?"

"I don't understand."

"You mustn't fall into Voldemort's trap! You must break free! You have to pull through this!"

There was a flicker of this world's Remus in those eyes. Harry feared he was losing the one person who could give him answers.

"What must I do!?" Harry bellowed, grasping Remus' arms just below the elbow in hopes that that might anchor him for a few moments longer.

"Fight!" Remus was now speaking through gritted teeth. He was struggling to stay. "No matter what! You mustn't leave us!"

"I never left!" Harry argued.

Something happened then that Harry did not expect. Remus smiled, sadly and gently. He pulled Harry close and embraced him in the very same manner as a father would a son. His right arm was draped across Harry's shoulders while his left hand and chin rested atop Harry's head. "Harry, you mean the world to us. Don't give in. You must break free."

With that, the embrace died, and Harry was left standing face to face with the Remus he had come to know these past few days. The Remus he had come to know and hate.

"What just happened?" he asked, his features going slack at the pale, tear-filled smile of the young man before him.

"Nothing," Harry lied, regaining his composure.

Remus left soon after. Harry continued to stare out the window, but this time he could find no anger in his heart. There was only hope. Somewhere out there, someone was waiting for him to come back. That feeling of purpose, of reason, made Harry feel more alive than anything else he had ever experienced.

* * *

_All right everyone, sorry about the (yet another) cliff hanger. Its been a busy week so far and I've got a lot of stuff I need to get done. I don't think I'll be updating again till the weekend, so savor this chapter. _

_Thanks for all the reviews!_


	11. Back to the Death Chamber

..........WAHOO!!!! I reached 100 reviews **again**! (dances hysterically for numerous minutes with her muses Remus and Sirius) You guys are the best! (tackle-hugs reviewers) Thank you so much! I can't tell you how good it feels to break 100 reviews for a story. (dances) Thanks a **bunch**! Here's chapter eleven for your reading/viewing pleasure!

Love from

Ela

* * *

As the days went on, visitors continued to drop unexpectedly into Harry's room. They were all quite set off by his unusual happiness. The uncharacteristic joviality left them bewildered, believing that Harry was being drugged without his knowledge. Harry, of course, knew otherwise, but allowed them to believe what they liked. Mrs. Weasley seemed pleased with his sudden change of heart, and purposed that they bring him home immediately. Arthur protested, believing that the shock of a sudden atmosphere change might only create another problem. Remus, who was not present at the time, had given strict orders that Harry stay until he showed satisfactory signs of improvement, and of course none of the doctors had said anything on such matters.

But as the Weasleys brought these fears and beliefs to the surface, with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny only a few feet away, quite capable of hearing their heated debate, a thought suddenly rang in Harry's mind.

How _was _he going to get out of here? The Weasleys would never just let him out, and any moves he made would be watched closely by any and all who were with him.

But Harry couldn't wait long enough to be deemed cured. Somewhere, Sirius was waiting for him. But where? It wasn't here in Mungos, he knew that. Despite Remus' words about them being in the Critical Conditions ward waiting for him, Harry was wise enough to realize that their reality was not shared with him. At least, not with the part of him that was conscious and functioning.

He had a dilemma on his hands, and was not sure quite how to handle it.

But Harry's answer came in the most unexpected of forms exactly two weeks after he had been admitted to Mungos.

One evening, just before Harry had prepared his bed, a soft rap sounded on the door. He jumped, not having expected a visitor this late.

"Come in," he called. His expression was knit in concentration as he wondered who it might be, and why they were here. When Harry looked up he was surprised to see Albus Dumbledore standing in the threshold. He had a small knapsack tucked underneath his right arm, and a smile that illuminated his gentle blue eyes.

"Hello Harry," Dumbledore greeted, as though this were a very appropriate setting for a very typical meeting between a regular Headmaster and his ever-so-normal pupil. "How are you?"

A frown made Harry's countenance knit further. "I would tell you," Harry said lightly, pulling back the sheets of his bed, "but you wouldn't believe me."

Strangely enough, Dumbledore's eyes shimmered as though this were just the reaction he expected.

"When, Harry," he asked, "have I ever doubted you before?"

Harry stiffened. The only thing that separated himself from his Headmaster was the simple, militaristic like bed that sat like an unwelcome rock between the two bodies, yet the entire universe seemed to settle in that one room for a single moment. All that existed was Dumbledore and that all knowing gaze. Harry felt something tickle in the back of his head. There was a deeper meaning to this meeting than he could identify, but what? The impression soon passed, leaving Harry silently questioning the feeling of isolation.

"Then you don't think I'm a nutter?" Harry asked with a perplexed half grin.

A laugh escaped Dumbledore's lips. Light yet hearty, as though he'd just heard a joke he'd already heard a million times before, but still laughed so as to not offend the orator.

"A nutter?" Dumbledore repeated, placing the knapsack on Harry's nightstand. "No, Harry. That is not quite the word I would use. I think you are disheartened. You're feeling a loss greater than anything you've been accustomed to before, and you don't know how to express it."

All hope left Harry's heart. He slumped down onto the side of the bed and allowed his head to fall into his hands. This was not the answer he had hoped for.

Dumbledore took a seat next to him, a gentle hand laid upon the young boy's shoulder.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked after a while. "It's not your job to check up on me."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said slowly. "But I do on occasion, regardless what you may think my numerous other responsibilities are."

Harry flinched at the inner tartness of that statement.

"Then it is certainly not your style to do so in person," Harry commented, a shadow of a smile flickering onto his features. "What brings you here now, Dumbledore?"

Albus Dumbledore was a mysterious man. Even Harry, who had known him well for the past five years, had a hard time discerning all of those secret smiles and clandestine flickerings beneath the eyes. The way he twisted words into the most complicated arrangements to describe the simplest things around him and others. Rarely did he make immediate sense, least of all to Harry, with whom he played such games with most often.

He caught an air of that nature now as Dumbledore stood from the bedside and moved to bring the knapsack into his arms. He did not take his seat back, but simply stood, looming over Harry like the guardian angels he heard so much about.

"I thought you might be needing this," he stated with a gentle grin. "I fear that now I must be getting back. I will be seeing you again soon." He pat Harry's shoulder and left, the door snicking shut quietly behind him. Harry's gaze followed curiously, a frown evident on his features. With an acquiescing sigh he let his eyes fall to the bag that now rested in his arms. It was his. Left with the Weasley's when they had brought him to Mungos. He'd left it laying under his cot with specific instructions that no one go through it. Inside was the shattered fragments of Sirius' mirror, and a picture that Remus had taken in secret just before he had returned to Hogwarts after the Holidays of his fifth year. It was an image of him and Sirius sitting on one of the dusty couches in Grimmauld Place. Harry had his feet up on the cushion, smiling dumbly into the camera. Sirius was on his right, a bottle of butterbeer in his right hand. His left was brought up behind Harry's head, his index and middle finger brought up to give the impression of what muggles called 'bunny ears'. Harry, of course, was clueless to this action.

A sad smile flickered over his face as he watched that moving image now. Harry watched his picture-self lean his head back, bumping into Sirius' raised hand. The picture version of Harry turned with a suspicious look to Sirius, who had now rotated his gaze in the opposite direction, whistling and suddenly becoming very interested in, what Harry could only guess to be, the ceiling. His hand had slyly dropped behind the couch as though he'd been using it for an armrest the whole time. Picture-Harry raised his eyebrow, then turned his attention back to the camera. It was at that time that picture-Sirius lay down his bottle of butterbeer and enveloped Harry in a tackle-esque hug that sent them both toppling off the couch. A few pillows and a decorative holiday blanket followed them.

Some moments later, two heads popped up from the bottom of the image, laughing while trying to pull themselves out from underneath the blanket.

Harry smiled. He allowed his thumb to caress the right side of the image. Sirius now had his arms wrapped around Harry's shoulders, his head rested atop Harry's own. They smiled gleefully up at him, a cruel mockery of everything Harry had lost.

Everything I thought I lost, Harry thought with a smile. He tucked the picture away into a protective pocket and shifted through a few more items. He had his Dark Arts book in there, the album from Hagrid that featured all the pictures of his mother and father, and that was it. He reached for the clasps to close the bag, but a silver glint caught his eye. No, he'd left that in his trunk, hadn't he?

Harry reached into the knapsack and pulled out the knife-combination-lock pick that Sirius had given him. He sat gaping at this newfound blessing. It had been repaired as well, no longer melted from his journey through the Ministry that fateful June night.

"Impossible," Harry whispered, watching as the light from overhead glinted off the metal. This was his ticket out. His ticket home. But how to use it? Where would he go after Mungos?

Only one place to go to get any answers now, Harry thought to himself as he tucked the knife beneath the mattress of his bed. He took off his glasses and crawled beneath the sheets . Turning out the light, Harry breathed a rare sigh of relief.

"Back to the Death Chamber,"

_

* * *

The picture description was inspired by Kristin which can be viewed at her studio website. I take no credit for the images initial appearance. The actions of the picture were my own, but I can take no credit for those either as they might not have been possible without her heartwarming yet heartbreaking image of Sirius and Harry during their first, and last, Christmas.

* * *

I'm really pleased with all the reviews. Thanks guys!_


	12. Through the Veil

****

Author's Note: Okay, guys, please bear with me. I'm sick right now, so my grammar and spelling may be a bit off. I really want to finish this soon however, as I need to start on a James/Lily romance as well as a sequel to this story.

Yes, that's right, I want to write a sequel for this.

I have a plot vaguely mapped out, but I'm still lacking a title and fillers between all the good juicy action, suspense, and of course, my favorite: angst.

Anyway, I hope this story is both readable, comprehendible, and enjoyable.

* * *

"This is it," Harry whispered. The gentle _swish-swish_ of one of the nurses feet could be heard fading into silence. Grasping at the knife, a gift from Sirius, with white knuckles, Harry waited for the light in the hall to go out: a signal that it was time for everyone to tuck in for the night. With a sharp inhaling of air, Harry's heart leapt as the lights flickered out, and the gentle snicking of a door could be heard at the furthest end of the corridor. Dumbledore had given Harry this one chance to escape, and he was taking it now.

He waited, just a few moments, to make certain that no one had lingered behind that night. Sometimes doctors would stay late to complete paperwork, or check up on their patients, or to simply avoid going home for the night, depending on circumstances. Harry's own doctor, Abendigo Montel, seemed to be one of those who wished for reasons to not head home right away. His wife was expecting a child sometime next month, or so Harry had overheard, and her mood swings were quite unbearable.

The risk of running into Montel tonight was a high one, made even larger so by the fact that Harry would have to slip past his office in order to get out of Mungos.

Harry's hands were shaking as he pulled the knife up to his face. Gently, he slithered out from under his bed sheets. Desperately trying to steady himself, Harry brought up his left hand to grasp the wrist of his right so that he didn't make noise while picking the lock of his room.

"This is everything," he concluded. The timid _click_ that signaled success seemed as loud to Harry as a terrified shriek. The silence that was soon ringing in his ears again made his situation all the more dire and pressing. One awkward sound would instantly give him away, and his chance would be lost forever.

I can't let that happen, Harry thought to himself as he slipped through the shadows.

For the first time in his life he was grateful for being smaller than normal for his age, it made him less likely to be spotted in the darkness around him.

Wide, green eyes poked covertly behind every corner. He passed every door with the stealth of a wraith. He knew his way out well enough. It was getting there that was the problem. Montel's office, as well as the offices of many other dignified doctors, came and went, causing Harry no more trauma than a pack of restless nerves.

The mental ward of St. Mungos rested between the third and fifth floors near the west wing of the edifice. Harry had been placed, fortunately enough, on the third, making his escape easier for there were less mazes to solve in these endless echoing corridors. Less chances of running into someone that would escort him back to his room, afterward reporting the need for extra security over the chamber that night. Fate had, for once, played Harry a winning hand. He just had to arrange the cards the right way for the winning play.

A few minutes of meandering brought Harry to a staircase. He sighed in relief, hoping to find one of these instead of a lift. The latter would be too risky, enclosing him in a confined space that - if someone were to find him in - would be impossible to escape from. Harry sighed, toggling gently with the doorknob until it clicked open. He slipped into the shadows of the stairwell unnoticed and came out on the first floor.

Shit, he cursed repeatedly as he opened the door. He'd never stopped to realize that this was still a hospital that ran all day, ever day. There were bound to be thousands of people waiting in the lobby for medical care! Harry pressed his ear up to the door.

A multitude of voices were echoing from a thousand different directions. Harry couldn't sift through all of them. Some people were yelling in panic, others were speaking calmly. Doctors and healers of all sorts were shouting for potions, stretchers, and other things that Harry couldn't really hear. It was not the voices that concerned him, but all the eyes that would easily spot him and unknowingly betray him to the staff here at the hospital.

Too bad, A part of Harry's brain thought to himself. _Well, I tried._

"That's not good enough," he grumbled in response. "We can't just give up."

As he finished his words, the doorknob twisted. Harry's heart lurched. Someone was coming into the stairwell!

Harry cursed again and threw himself on the other side of the door so that he would be concealed when it opened. He waited, holding his breath, waiting to be discovered.

"Busiest night of the damn year," one voice said in a complaining tone. "I can't believe this. Every full moon. It's a mad house."

"Yeah," answered the other voice. "I know. Still, it's good pay, and we're off at one."

They disappeared up the staircase, not noticing the young boy who stood shaking in the corner.

Harry was relieved that they'd not noticed him, but he knew he'd been lucky that time. Next time he would not be so fortunate.

He had to get out. Now.

With one last breath, as though he were diving back into the mysterious black ocean near the gray sanded beach, Harry ripped open the door and bolted into...

...an empty corridor.

"What's going on?" Harry frowned, looking to and fro for some explanation. He whirled his body around numerous times, as though he were expecting someone to jump at him. "Where is everyone?"

There was a ghostly silence for a moment, then the voices started up again. Thousands of them, and they were all coming from the end of the corridor.

That must be where the waiting room is, Harry thought to himself. He was standing in what seemed to be a sort of mud room, though there was no door leading outside. There were, however, racks upon racks filled with coats and boots, canes, umbrellas, purses and shoes. Cloaks lay strewn about of numerous colors and sizes. One in particular had a very intricate design of what appeared to be Celtic origins. Harry admired it, but realized that it would be too conspicuous trying to leave with such an ostentatious piece draped around his shoulders. Someone would undoubtedly recognize it.

Instead, Harry stuck with a traditional full length navy blue cloak. He studied it before putting it on, making sure that there were no distinguishing marks on it. He couldn't risk being spotted walking off with someone's extraordinary materials. A plainer style would do. Harry couldn't afford to stand out.

He slipped the cloak over a regular pair of robes that were in a charity bin, and with his hood drawn over his head he slipped through the lobby unnoticed.

This is too easy, Harry found himself thinking as he passed through the doors. However, as Harry marveled at his succeeded escape attempt, he did not notice the large, burly man approach on his right. Harry felt himself collide painfully hard with a very thick bodied man. He was sprawled on the ground instantly. Harry rushed to pull up his hood when a trash bin sized hand reached down to bring him back to his feet.

" 'Hello good sir," said a voice Harry was quite familiar with. "So sorry 'bout that. Don't know me own strength sometimes. Didn' hurt yeh, did I?"

Harry stared, flabbergasted, straight up into the face of Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts Gamekeeper. His mind froze. His heart seemed to have skipped a beat, and all common sense and want for secrecy was forgotten.

Hagrid, sensing tension, bit his lip and ripped Harry up off the ground a little harder than he had originally intended. It was dark out, so Harry did not have to worry about his identity being betrayed.

Unless he decided to talk.

"I, eh, sorry," Hagrid muttered clumsily, fumbling over something beneath his arm after brushing Harry's shoulders off.

Something clicked in Harry's head. He suddenly had a brilliant idea that would make this experience very fun indeed.

"S'all right, guv," he said with a wide smile Hagrid would not be able to see. Harry put on his best Cockney accent with a personality to match. "No 'arm done."

That familiar, skin crinkling smile came to the giant's face again. Harry felt a wave of relief surge up in him. Hagrid had fallen for it. _Don't be rude,_ Harry's better half reminded himself. "Say, whot's that ye've got there?" Harry asked, pointing to the bundle beneath Hagrid's arm.

"Oh," Hagrid tossed the bag from one hand to the other, tucking it back under his arm hastily. "S' a present."

" 'ow sweet," Harry grinned. It was hard to not laugh at himself. "Oo-sit for?"

"A friend o' mine," Hagrid sighed sadly, and for the first time Harry was aware of how tired and worn the giant looked, as though he'd had a very hard time these past few weeks. "He's sick."

"Oo, I'm sorry to 'ear that," Harry said with a sigh. "I'm sure 'ee'll be gettin' better soon."

Hagrid shrugged. "I'd not be to sure 'bout that."

"Oh?"

There was a temporary pause in which Harry could see tears glistening at the edges of Hagrid's beetle black eyes. He said his goodbye and slipped through the doors of Mungos. Harry watched after him, then ducked into the shadows of the nearest alleyway. Hagrid was no doubt going to visit _him_, which meant the time Harry had assumed he would have to get away was now drastically cut down to barely anything at all. He had to find an outdoor broom closet, and fast, otherwise Hagrid would jeopardize everything.

_

* * *

_

Harry had raced off on a Cleansweep by the time Mungos' officials had started to comb the area for their elusive escapee. He could not help but smile as the hospital grew smaller and smaller in the distance, only hoping never to see the place again. Yet, for all his stealth and luck, Harry knew he had only one last asset playing for him, and that was time. His mental clock continued to tick down. Surely they would begin to dispatch wizards to areas in which they were most certain he would head. Privet Drive, though Harry would be damned if he was willingly going back there; The Burrow, which would be pointless because the Weasleys would only drag him back; Hogwarts, in which case Harry was in a very similar state there as he was with the Weasleys; Grimmauld Place, which might give Harry a shot only because the Ministry and Mungos would not know about it; Diagon Alley, where he would surely be recognized and reported; and then there was heading back to the Ministry itself.

Of course, the latter was Harry's plan, but he would have to be careful. No doubt there were now eyes combing every inch of anywhere for him, and even more certainly, the minute Remus Lupin heard of Harry's escape, he would know just where he'd have gone.

Harry frowned. No, he wouldn't have to worry about Remus tonight. The full moon gleamed eerily over Harry's head. Remus would be reverting to his lycanthropic state this night, and would therefore be out of Harry's way. The only real question that nagged Harry was why Dumbledore had helped him. What could he gain by giving Harry an escape route? Surely there was a bigger purpose than simply letting Harry loose onto the wizarding community again?

But what?

It didn't matter. Harry couldn't waste time thinking on it. He could see the Ministry building growing larger and larger. It's windows were lifeless and cold, just as Harry had hoped. No one was expecting him. Not yet.

This gave Harry some time. He could get to where he needed and not be disturbed.

"Finally." Harry smiled, diving into the shadows of the streets below to keep from being seen.

_

* * *

_

Harry stepped awkwardly into the battered telephone box, closing the door behind him. He shuffled his feet on the floor a little, then reached up to dial. Six, two, four, four, two. As it whirred back into place, that familiar female voice sounded inside the box. "Please state your name and business."

He almost stated his full name, then thought better on it. He stuttered for a few seconds, his mind drawing a blank. The cool female voice repeated her demand. "Please state your name and business."

"Neville Longbottom," Harry said, remembering his temporarily adopted moniker from his third year. It had worked before, had it not? "I'm here to see the Death Chamber."

"Thank you," said the voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

One, singular badge slipped down the metal chute. Harry lifted it in his fingers to read it, and could not help but laugh.

****

Neville Longbottom

Death Chamber Visitor

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past the glass windows of the telephone box. The golden light flared at his feet, swelling up through the box until he was back in the familiar atrium. As the door opened, Harry could hear the flow of water from the fountain. The security desk was left empty again, just the same as it had been weeks ago. This set Harry's nerves on alert, but he made no motion to prove it. His determination set, Harry set out toward the Department of Mysteries.

He headed first for the lifts, jabbing the down button with an extreme enthusiasm set out by gritting nerves and frustrations. He felt so foolish being here, but it seemed that there was no place else he could go. This was it. Everything Harry needed was here, though he wasn't certain how he knew this. His gut instincts had, on occasion, lead Harry in the wrong direction. This time, however, there was no questioning. Beyond the veil was where his answers lay.

Beyond the veil...

Harry lightly pressed the nine button, and with an echoing clang the gates slid closed and the lift began to descend. No one came at the sound of his fall, as Harry had expected. The Ministry was eerily empty. This provided Harry with a valuable security.

"Department of Mysteries," rang the crystalline female voice. Harry jumped at the unexpected interruption of his thoughts. The grilles slid open, and he stepped out into a massively empty corridor. Torches were lit, casting moving shadows every few feet.

He slipped down the corridor and found himself staring, once again, at that looming black door. The door that had haunted his dreams all last year, and even sometimes now. This was it, Harry told himself.

Harry opened the door to find, once again, the circular room illuminated with blue flames. He allowed the black door to remain open, knowing quite well what would happen if he let it shut. He couldn't afford to get lost now, with time running out and every second just as precious as the one before. This time, however, Harry had instinct playing on his side, as well as experience. His senses propelled him to the right and up five doors, before at last he found himself standing at the very top of the stone tiers.

At their base rested the dais.

He descended the steps with grace, coming to stand next to the ancient passageway that had claimed his godfather's life. Harry felt his body tense unwillingly. Something wasn't right. Once again, he found himself hesitating. What was wrong with this image? The tattered, black veil was swaying lazily in the invisible breeze that emanated from beneath the archway. The stone tiers were still standing, though there was still some evidence of the recent battle that had taken place in this very room only weeks before. There was no one here, and yet Harry knew quite well that he wasn't alone.

Harry stiffened. "Well, this is it," he said with a slightly mournful sigh.

"NO!"

Harry froze.

"Sirius?"

He whirled around, hoping to see his godfather standing at the base of the wooden platform, or near the top of the steps where Harry had just entered. Nothing.

"Don't do it!"

Harry frowned. "Who's there?" He stepped forward. Something cracked beneath his foot, and Harry felt a sharp twinge of pain in his foot. He looked down to find...

...his mirror! Reflected in its shattered surface was his godfather's tormented face. Harry bit his lip against the pain in his foot, the mysterious wound from his dreams reopened in this questionable reality. He leaned down and picked up the mirror, holding it close.

"Sirius?" Harry whispered delicately, as though he were talking to a man who was lying on his death bed. "Sirius, what's wrong?"

"Harry, you can't leave me. Please."

"I'm not leaving you," Harry said with a frown. "I'm coming back."

"Harry, please. Hold on."

His frown deepened. Sirius didn't seem to be hearing him. "Sirius, I'm right here. I'm in the Chamber. I'm coming back. You don't have to worry anymore!"

"Harry, it's a trap. They're trying to trick you. You're not where you think you are."

"I know that!" Harry bellowed. "I just told you, I'm coming back. I know now."

"You can't go."

Angry now beyond comprehension, Harry wanted to curse and fling the mirror across the room. To hell with it. He'd see Sirius and prove him wrong.

Turning to face the dais, Harry stepped forward. He reached out to touch the veil.

"HARRY DON'T!"

This voice was very physical, and present. Harry turned his gaze toward the entrance to find himself staring at Remus. He gazed, stupefied at this phenomenon.

"What-what are you doing here?" Harry asked breathily, taking a step away from the veil.

"I could ask _you_ the same question, Harry," Remus answered lightly. "Come on, get away from there. Killing yourself won't bring Sirius back."

"You can't be....you....you're a werewolf!"

Remus frowned. Not out of annoyance, but out of confusion. "What relevance does this have to you committing suicide, Harry?"

"It's a full moon tonight. You can't be here. You might attack someone."

"Oh," Remus gave a nervous laugh. "Silly, Harry. I took my Wolfsbane tonight."

This didn't convince Harry in the least. Wolfsbane suppressed the violent urges that were typical of a werewolf, but did nothing to prevent the transformation. Something was not right. Warnings were screaming in Harry's head. He needed to get out. Remus seemed to sense this tension, and stepped forward onto one of the tiers.

"Come, Harry," he invited gently. "You're still not well. You need to go back to Mungos."

"I assure you, Professor, I'm quite well now. Thank you for your concerns."

A smile flashed over Remus' features. "No, Harry, you're not. Please. You can trust me."

"Can I?"

There was a long bout of silence in which Harry could hear the wheels turning in Remus' head. At long last, he spoke. His voice was tensed and hard to hear between his clenched teeth.

"Harry, if you do not come with be now I fear I may have to apply force."

The boy grinned, feeling daring. "Yeah? You and what army?"

Of course, no sooner had he asked was Harry's question answered. A number of Ministry goons stepped through the surrounding doors. Wands poised and ready to petrify, or worse, perhaps.

Harry immediately recognized Mad Eye Moody. He saw Nymphandora Tonks come to stand beside Remus. Kinsgsley Shacklebolt, Elphias Dodge, Dedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, Hestia Jones were also among them. His advance guard. Arthur Weasley was among the faces as well. A twinge of betrayal struck his heart, but he swallowed the feeling for now.

"Please Harry, let us help you."

"Go to hell," Harry spat. This did it, though Harry wasn't quite certain what. The next thing he knew there were about a dozen stunning charms flying in his direction. He dodged most of them, and felt the sting of a few, but never took a direct hit. He slid helplessly behind the veil on the other side of the platform, feeling oddly vulnerable without his wand.

"Potter, get out here now and come back with us!"

"No!"

A roar of anger exploded from Remus. He leapt with frightening agility down the stone steps and pulled Harry up on his feet.

"You're coming with us if it's the last thing you do."

There was an odd echo to Remus voice. His touch burned at Harry's skin, and as he glared into Harry's eyes, there was a flash of foreignness within the glimmering orbs that were always so gentle.

"You haven't fooled me," Harry smiled. "Voldemort."

There was a pause. Then, all of a sudden, the image of Remus rippled away, and Lord Voldemort stood before Harry, sneering malevolently with his wicked red eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Very clever, Potter. I figured you had a general idea of what I'd done, but I never thought you'd believe it was me directly. Very clever."

Harry grinned. "Not too bad yourself. I'll give the pleasure of knowing that you _almost_ fooled me."

The smile was returned. "How lovely to know. However, Potter, I am afraid that I cannot let you go through that veil."

"Well, I'm afraid that I can't stay. I'm expected back for tea tomorrow afternoon."

The smiles were gone. Anger flashed through Voldemort's eyes. "You are a fool, boy, if you think you have no reason to fear me here. I am just as dangerous here as I am in the waking world."

"Perhaps you are," Harry stated. The images of the other faces shimmered, reverting back to their true form. He recognized the faces of Dolohov and Macnair, Malfoy, Crabbe, Rodolphus, Jugson, Nott, and the one that Harry hated almost as much as the monster that stood before him; Bellatrix Lestrange.

She mustered a wave along with a mock-flirtatious smile. Harry merely frowned.

"I am. Rest assured, Potter. I can kill you now. Leave you drifting in a bottomless ocean, and your godfather alone for the rest of his existence. If he can stand it." A furtive grin danced across Voldemort's face. "Aside from you, I do enjoy tormenting him the most. You should have seen the look on his face when he discovered the bodies of your mother and father." Voldemort paused in hopes that this would bring some sort of reaction from Harry. It didn't. "I imagine your death would leave him without purpose. What a pity. His talents were always so highly regarded when he worked against us."

"Which he will do again," Harry said through clenched teeth.

Voldemort shook his head. "Not if I can help it."

A battle ensued all of a sudden. Harry, without his wand, could only duck and run. He cursed as his feet brought him farther and farther from the dais. This wouldn't work. He needed a way to defend himself.

You're a fool, said a voice in Harry's head. _This is your world. Summon your wand. You don't need to obey the rules of reality here._

Closing his eyes tightly, Harry mentally summoned his wand. No sooner did he open them did he find it sitting in his right hand, rumbling eagerly to join in on the battle. Harry grinned, standing to face off with the first approaching Death Eater.

Dolohov.

The man was down in an instant, and Harry was fleeing back toward the Dais, drawing up defenses at every angle so that he would not be struck down in his dash. He was able to reach the platform, but stopped there. Bellatrix had leapt into his path, her face bent in a very grotesque smile.

"Hello Harry," she said, inching forward casually. "So good to be seeing you, again."

"Can't say the same for you I'm afraid."

Bellatrix frowned in mock offense. "No? Shame. We're family you know. You and I. My cousin being your godfather and all, we're legally related."

"That so?" said Harry in a very dismal tone, as though he were responding to a very boring question in History of Magic. "Well please don't be offended if I disregard that when I kick your ass."

"Oh, I wouldn't be," said Bellatrix with a malevolent grin. "I hope that you feel the same way when I kick yours. And what a mouth. I don't think your mummy and daddy would be to happy to hear their baby boy--"

"Oh, shut it!" Harry spat. He whipped up his wand and sent her spiraling off the platform. She flew with a scream of terror that made Harry grin despite his current circumstances. Harry prepared himself to leap through the veil at that last instant, but something held him back.

"POTTER!"

It wasn't Voldemort's voice. It wasn't Dumbledore, it wasn't Sirius, or Remus, or Ron, Hermione, or Ginny. Yet Harry knew that voice well, for it had always called him by that name in a very drawl tone with a sneering face. It was a face that brought forth the worst in himself and his godfather, as well as the worst of many of his peers.

Harry turned to find Severus Snape at the top of the stairs, his gaze barreling through Harry with what was unmistakable relief despite his true feelings for the boy.

"What the--?" But Harry wasn't given time to react. In an instant Snape drew his wand. A jet of silver propelled from its tip and caught Harry full in the chest. He toppled over, falling through the veil with nothing but Voldemort's angry screams following him into the darkness.

_

* * *

_

(Maniacal laughter) Okay, one more chapter left to go. Hope this was all right, guys. Like I said, I'm sick so you're going to have to bear with me.

Anyway, I left a few comments for some of my more consistent reviewers. A token of appreciation. All of your words meant so very much to me, but I wanted to address everyone personally. (I know it makes me feel special if someone does that to me in their story.)

Well, here you go. Next chapter will be up as soon as I stop sneezing every ten seconds. Take care, all.

* * *

Aurorawolf; Your reviews are always a joy to read. Thank you so much!

AJ. of Gryffindor; Glad you like the story so far. I hope that it continues to your liking.

The Greater Dog; I'm sorry for making you cry. I know I've been near that point numerous times during this story. I really like overflowing my stuff with angst. Sorry.

Elenestar; Your reviews always bring a smile to my face. Thank you so much for all your kind and encouraging words.

WolfMoon; Wow, a celebrity! Lol, just kidding (wink) Congratulations on all your stories that have reached 1000 reviews. I wish I could have something like that sitting on my plate. I'm hoping this story will have a good take off once it's finished, but my stuff seems to die once I write "The End,". Ah well. Glad you like the story. I hope to hear more from you in the future. (smiles)

Lady Taliesin; Your reviews have been a great encouragement and blessing throughout this ordeal. (hugs) I appreciate all of your reviews, you have no idea how much they all mean to me. Thank you so much for your support in this story. (smile)

Ginny M; Lol, your reviews always make me smile. Thank you so much for your kind and encouraging words.

Dracofan99; And your reviews always make me laugh, not to mention blush on more than one occasion. (laughs) You are certainly "worthy" as you say. Your reviews certainly are very encouraging, and I'm thrilled that you like the story so much. Your last review for chapter ten was very sweet. I thank you very much. (hugs) I hope I can live up to your expectations. I don't know about being another J.K. Rowling, but maybe I'll be blessed with a fraction of the popularity that was bestowed upon her.

Totallystellar; Once again, I can only thank you for all of your encouragement throughout this story. Your reviews meant a great deal to me. Bless you.

Snuffles16; First of all, love the name. (winks) Thank you for all your reviews.

Icy Tears; Thank you very much for all your reviews. Do you have an account here? I'd love to see some of your work. (smiles)

Mrs-Osborne's-class; Last, but certainly not least. I cannot thank you enough for all your kind words and encouraging reviews. Not just in this story, but with others as well. I can always count on you to drop in and comment on my Harry Potter stories, and that means a great deal to me. You're one of my most cherished reviewers. Thank you so much for all your kind words, both past and present, and hopefully, in the future as well. (many hugs to you)

To Anyone Whom I Missed; I am terribly sorry! Please, forgive me! Your review(s) was (were) highly appreciated, and I'm sorry I never got around to acknowledging you. Thank you very much

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**To any and all who are interested in seeing the image described in the previous chapter, please return to my bio page. The link is there under Chamber of Keys.**


	13. This Dream I am Now Holding

****

Author's Alert: Okay, well I'm feeling better now. Thanks everyone for your concerns. Sinus infections are terrible, and no, none of you got me sick via the net. (grins) Although if those were your intentions, thank you! You got me a day off of school. (wink)

Well, aside from that, here it is. Chapter the Last. I'm really happy that this was so successful. I hope that it continues to be. I'd like to break 200 reviews for a story, but my true goal these days is 1000. I know, I know, I can keep dreaming. After all, that's pretty much what my existence is based off of these days anyway. Dreams.

Sad, isn't it?

* * *

At first, there was nothing but silence. Eerie, impenetrable silence that rang heavily in his stuffy ears. Harry groaned, but only slightly. He couldn't get his eyes to open. Something wet and heavy lay across them, but it was more of a blessing than a nuisance. The cold compress slightly relieved the pressure that had been building behind his eyes over the past few minutes. It was also refreshing to the touch, because where ever Harry was, it was quite humid. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make him wonder even more about where he was, and what had just happened. He tried to bring back memories of the past few days, but failed. Everything was a blur. A strange, distressing blur, as though all of this had been nothing more than a happy little dream. Or a dream, at least; very little about it had been very happy.

Groaning again, Harry reached up to pull off the compress...and immediately became aware of another one of the rag's uses; it had effectively drown out the glittering rays of sunlight that were just beginning to filter through the eastward facing window.

It was morning. Harry was certain because everything was amazingly quiet. Mrs. Weasley wasn't clattering about in the kitchen yet in the process of making everyone breakfast.

Wait, Harry thought all of a sudden. _I'm not at the Weasley's house._

Then where was he?

Harry sat up immediately and began to look around. He became aware of his location very quickly. A hospital room, though this one was different from his room in the mental ward. There were groups of chairs gathered in different and random areas of the room. As few as twenty, Harry might have guessed. It was decorated here and there by cards and flowers, and candy from well-wishers and supporters. Much to Harry's amusement, a toilet seat sat among the throng of more admirable gifts. A donation and rather old inside joke from the Weasley twins no doubt.

With a grin, Harry reached to his left and pulled his glasses up off of the bedside table. He was immediately startled by an unexpected presence; asleep in a chair with his head rested upon his enfolded arms atop the hospital bed, was Sirius Black. The man's face was ashen and tear streaked. It seemed to Harry that he had lost a great deal of weight in a very small amount of time, for he had a pinched and unhealthy look about him. His frail, grief-worn body trembled with every breath.

Harry sighed sadly. Looking down, he saw Sirius' right hand laying unclenched atop the bed sheets, resting barely an inch away from Harry's own.

The sight of his godfather in such a depressing state was the only thing that kept Harry from throwing himself at Sirius. He had missed him, to the point of nearly killing himself in hopes of seeing him again. Harry had done all he could and more to get here now to Sirius' side, but a few more minutes, Harry thought, wouldn't hurt. On the contrary, a few minutes were nothing in contrast to the time frame Harry had once imagined stood between him and this man before him here. A few minutes was nothing...in comparison to a lifetime.

Harry could wait.

He could do better than wait, he realized as he ran his tongue over his teeth. He could clean himself up as well. A comb through his hair and some soap on his face would definitely be a nice relief after having lain in this bed for God only knew how long.

Quietly, Harry slipped from his bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping godfather. Upon walking into the bath attached to his room, Harry quickly changed his mind. The quick wash he had been planning abruptly evolved into a full fledged shower. "A haircut wouldn't be too bad of an idea either," Harry commented, patting down the typically messy mop that constituted as hair as he peered into his rather unnerving reflection in the mirror. Of course, an attempt at a do-it-yourself trim was out of the question. Harry would willingly wait.

As he explored the bathroom, he found that, aside from the self-given haircut he had everything he needed to make himself presentable. There were towels and wash cloths already prepared in small cupboards near the shower. Soaps and shampoos of various scents adorned the wall furthest Harry, which acted also as a shower based shelf. Individual tubes of toothpaste were hidden in the mirror cabinet, and an assortment of generic, unopened toothbrushes sat in a cup near the sink faucet. Combs could be found in a drawer beneath the sink. They probably wouldn't hold up against the knots in Harry's hair, but he was willing to give them a shot.

"More than I could have asked for," Harry whispered quietly to himself, and immediately got to work.

_

* * *

_

Not much later did Harry emerge from the shower, quite pleased with the new level of cleanliness he felt he had achieved. As he revered in the new found comfort of decent hygiene, Harry began to ponder exactly what he was going to do with the time left to him this summer. How long had he been out? How long had Sirius been waiting for him? Did the others know he was here? Was it safe to leave him alone in that room?

With a frown, Harry dressed quickly and poked his head out of the bathroom door. Sirius lay there still, the sad shadow of a broken man. His posture looked almost practiced to Harry, as though Sirius had grown accustomed to sleeping in this position over time. The image was heartbreaking, if not a guilty reminder of all the things this man was willing to do for Harry.

Did he dare leave Sirius out there for a moment longer? What if one of the staff walked in and found him there?

Harry sighed. Surely a few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

He dried his hair with the towel then combed it through, allowing it to fall into its traditional messy mop. About to dare some generic hair gel after having finished brushing his teeth, Harry was suddenly caught off guard by a ragged yelp from his room.

He stopped, making sure he hadn't been hearing things. No, there it was again. But what was it?

The blood in his body chilled.

Sirius!

But what was wrong?

Harry tore from the bathroom and into the hospital room to find Sirius standing over his bed looking, if possible, even more ashen faced than before. Tears were streaming in torrents down his lean face. His gray eyes were both swollen and bloodshot. He looked, Harry hesitated to believe, like death itself.

For all the drama unfolding, Sirius did not even notice his godson's presence. He shifted madly through the sheets, as though he expected to find something in there. He then whirled around to the other side of the bed, searching beneath it and then moving his quest to the floor. Harry inched closer. Sirius was muttering under his breath.

"No....no.....no," he murmured. Over and over again, as though in a trance. "No....no."

Harry took another step forward. Still Sirius did not notice him.

"No!" Sirius rasped, now frantic. "Harry....oh my God! _No_!" He tore the pillows from the bed. The sheets and the blanket, everything that could be moved, was moved.

At last he gave up, sagging against the bed with his head in his hands. His shoulders heaved with unheard sobs as his ratted hair fell in clumps around his sorry face. "Harry...oh, God." He stepped forward. "God, no. Please!" One more step and Harry was at his godfather's side, kneeling, debating what on earth he should do for this man. Sirius was so distraught and wrapped up in his fear that he did not even realize...that what he was searching for was not even a foot away from him.

Harry moved to speak, but found that his throat had gone horribly dry. Still, even if it hadn't, he was sure that there was little he could have said in such a sight as this.

With his heart trembling as severely as his hands, Harry realized that there was only one option left to him. He reached up and rested one hand on Sirius' shoulder. The other pushed aside some matted hair to reveal the worn face of a once handsome man.

Now, Harry was staring at the worst life could deal a man. Here Sirius sat, having lost almost everything, and believing he'd lost all that was left to him now. There were lines of pain etched in that striking face where no color now existed. The gray eyes that slowly opened in wonder seemed hollow and sightless. This was a man drained of all life, of all purpose, and all will to go on. Here, before Harry, was the embodiment of everything no one ever wanted to experience. It hurt Harry to see Sirius like this, and he understood how it felt. Harry had felt the exact same way from the moment he had seen Sirius slip past the archway in the Department of Mysteries.

The gray, lifeless eyes flickered upward, and for the first time Harry and Sirius beheld each other in the physical realm.

For a long time, neither said anything.

Harry marveled in this phenomenon. Never again did he expect to see this man's face in his lifetime. Never again did he expect to see that smile, or hear that laugh. Never again did he think he'd be receiving another letter congratulating him on a job well done, or berating him for having put himself in unnecessary danger of some sort. Never again did Harry expect to feel that unquestionable security he found in Sirius' presence, regardless of how unexplainable or foreign such a feeling typically was for him. All of those small things Harry had missed so much. So many things that he'd been forced to say goodbye to. Yet part of him had held out for a moment just like this, and now Harry was grateful that he had never really let go.

Sirius in turn seemed to be thinking along the same lines. The color in his face had not returned, and the tears had not stopped falling. His eyes gazed up at Harry in both wonder and doubt. He seemed to be trying to decipher if this image before him was real, or a cruel joke his mind was playing on him. Sirius was at a loss for words, if there were any that could have even come near labeling what he was feeling at this exact moment. Harry stood directly before him, looking worried and relieved all at once for their current situation. It couldn't be. It simply couldn't be. Sirius wasn't used to being cut a break. Harry was gone. This was a mirage.

"Harry?" Sirius rasped with a throat as dry as the Sahara. The boy nodded.

At that moment, everything shattered.

Harry wasn't certain who lunged at who first, but within seconds he was wrapped tightly in his godfather's arms with a smart bruise forming on his head from where their foreheads had collided. He might have laughed were the situation less dire. There was nothing he could say or do that would lighten or darken the mood. Everything was simply there. All Harry could do was accept it and return the embrace that he was being held in.

His head was buried in the crook of Sirius' neck. The tip of his nose could feel the erratic beatings of his pulse just below the jaw line. Harry's brow was sprinkled with the shoulder length matting of Sirius' jet black hair. It was all he could do to keep a grip around Sirius' shoulders that was just short of painful. Sirius on the other hand, didn't even bother with that. He held so tightly to Harry's torso that the boy was certain he might burst. But his joy outweighed the pain, and Harry would have had no complaints about the bruises that later formed around his ribs that day.

When the shock waned away, a wave of tears followed. Hours seemed to pass there in that room on the floor. Neither were willing to let go, though they weren't certain why. It didn't matter.

For the first time Harry could remember, he wept tears of happiness.

_

* * *

_

"I thought you were dead," Harry said in a hushed tone. They'd still not left their place on the floor. His head was rested in the crook of Sirius' left arm, which in turn wrapped around Harry's shoulders and came to a rest at the base of his neck. "That was the illusion. You had fallen through the dais in the Department of Mysteries, and everyone said that there was no hope of you coming back. You were gone."

Sirius let lose a sharp sigh through his teeth. "I'm sorry."

"Not as much as I was," Harry went on. It was noon at this point, and the light had diminished somewhat in their room. "I thought I was going insane. I couldn't stand it, and all the while I heard you talking to me--"

"You heard me talking to you?" Sirius interrupted, sounding intrigued at this.

Harry nodded. "You kept telling me to wake up. Whenever I thought I was asleep I would hear your voice."

A laugh escaped Sirius' throat. "Bet that was confusing."

"You have no idea."

There was a pause.

"I'm amazed. I didn't think you could hear me at all."

Harry frowned, turning his gaze up towards Sirius. "You mean you _were_ saying all of that?"

Sirius nodded. "Oh, yes. Whenever I was in here alone. Now and then I had an odd sense that you just might be able to hear what I was saying. I kept talking, not sure if it would get through or not. I hoped..." He trailed off.

"What?" Harry pressed on, curious.

Sighing, Sirius let his gaze fall to the floor. "I had hoped that...you'd hear me and attach on to the sound of something familiar. I thought it might bring you back." He smiled sadly. "I don't know if it worked."

"It did."

The sad smile turned into a warm one. Sirius' arm tightened around his godson. "Did you hear anything else?"

Harry sat in thought. The memory of the numerous different voices came to his mind all of a sudden. "Yes. At one point I thought I heard a few separate voices talking. Something about there being nothing someone could do, and that he or she, whoever they were, needed to go get some rest."

"The doctors," Sirius said with a stiff note in his voice.

Harry's gaze raised to meet Sirius' face again. "Who were they talking to?"

There was a pause.

"Me."

"_You_?" Harry asked, flabbergasted. "The doctors know you're _here_?"

Sirius frowned in confusion. He peered oddly at Harry for a moment, then broke into a sort of chuckle as though the answer were quite obvious. Harry, on the other hand, wasn't even aware of there having been a question.

"I never told you. My name has been cleared."

Harry had the impression that all of his internal organs had suddenly imploded. "What?" he croaked.

A stronger laugh erupted from Sirius, causing Harry to grin despite this revelation that was now being presented to him. "I've been cleared and reinstated back into society as a decent, if not honorable, wizard."

"The trial...?" Harry gaped.

"Already happened, though I didn't attend. It wasn't required given the circumstances."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Circumstances?"

"Well, you're condition of course," Sirius said as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. "You were knocked unconscious when Malfoy sent that attack toward you and Neville on the tiers. Remember?" Harry nodded. "The blast was meant for you, and it got you good. For a moment we all thought you were..." His voice trailed off. He swallowed hard, calmed his chattering teeth, and then, with a great force of willpower, continued. "We rushed you to Mungos after the Death Eaters had fled. At that point Cornelius Fudge had joined us and he had seen that I was fighting _against_ Voldemort, not with him. That was enough proof for Fudge."

"Bet everyone was glad for that," Harry added with a grin.

"Actually, no."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Well, no one cared. We were too preoccupied with _you_. Once we got you to Mungos we knew you were alive, but you were exhibiting signs of being comatose. You were rushed to a room and we were all restricted to the lobby for five merciless hours."

"Five hours?" Harry's head was spinning. "Who do you mean, 'we'?"

"Myself, Remus, Tonks, Moody, Kingsley." He lifted his hand and ticked off more names. "Dumbledore, of course. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna."

"They were there too?"

"Let me finish." Sirius went on. "Snape arrived soon after. And of course you know Fudge was there. Arthur and Molly came, with Fred and George in tow. Bill Weasley arrived later, strangely enough with Fleur Delacour. McGonagall came as well, completely bewildered as to how you had all gotten off the grounds without her or Umbridge knowing about it. Hagrid came, of course, bawling up a storm."

Harry laughed, partly out of embarrassment. He had never expected so many people to be so concerned for him. Reading Harry's thoughts, Sirius chuckled and wrapped both of his arms around his godson.

"It seems a great deal of people care for you, Harry."

"I'm just glad no one else was hurt," he said, not certain if anything else would have been appropriate.

"No one in particular though, right?"

Harry caught the humorous note in that statement and laughed. There was a pause. Then Sirius decided to speak his peace on the hardships he had endured over the past two weeks. It was only fair.

"There were days when I thought I'd be waiting here forever," he started. "They kept telling me there was no hope. That I should give up and go home."

Harry sat up, out of Sirius' grasp. He stared his godfather straight in the face, perplexed and amazed. "You weren't here the entire time with me." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. One that he hoped Sirius would confirm to be true.

"I was."

He swallowed hard. Harry wasn't sure what to say to this. He was touched, but there were no words for that. Instead, he sighed. "You didn't have to."

There was a pause.

"Yes, I did." Harry stopped to look up at Sirius' countenance. He was shockingly stony-faced, staring gravely at the wall opposite them as though it were a very dangerous insect. "I would never forgive myself if something had happened while I was away. What if you woke up only to die a few minutes afterward? I would never make it in time. Or what if something happened to you while you were in the coma?" Sirius stopped, a light cough escaping his throat. "I needed to stay. I had to know what was happening at all times." His eyes fell heavily upon Harry. "Leaving wasn't an option, even if I had wanted to."

"But what about the others? Certainly they could have stayed with me while you--"

"They offered," Sirius interrupted. "All the time. They were worried that I would exhaust myself waiting up for you each night. I ate, slept, and lived in this room ever since they assigned you to it. I never left it. There was only one time I came close..."

Harry looked up, intrigued. "What happened?"

The expression on Sirius' face darkened alarmingly. For a moment Harry thought that a switch in personality had occurred. But when he spoke it was still Sirius, only there was bitterness in his voice. And regret.

"I had barely set foot outside the hospital doors when they called me back in. You had stopped breathing."

"I did?"

"By the time I got here you were already cold. I was certain you'd died. Ron and Hermione where in here with Remus and Moody. Tonks was calming Mrs. Weasley outside because Arthur hadn't arrived yet. She didn't help much, only because she was in just as right of a state as Molly was."

Harry swallowed. "So, what _did_ happen."

"I'm not sure," Sirius' voice had died down to an almost inaudible whisper at this point. His gaze had fallen to the floor as tears welled in his eyes at the awful memory. "I know I snapped inside somewhere. I didn't listen to what the doctors said. Remus tried to pull me out of the room, but I shoved him off. I...I practically ripped you out of the bed...I was screaming at you. I think I cussed at more than one point."

Harry suddenly remembered the experience in the black ocean. His first encounter with the dais in his dreams. He shuddered inwardly, trying to hide his pale, somber expression as Sirius went on.

"I was so certain you were gone...I didn't know what to do anymore. Ron and Hermione where there too, trying to talk you back. No one knows what happened, but all of a sudden you started gasping for air...like someone had been holding you under water. You even pulled out of your coma for a second. Then you lapsed back. I think at that point I swore to never leave again until you had come back."

Harry listened to this story, allowing the silence that followed to envelope them.

"I remember that."

Sirius tensed, his voice becoming a ghostly whisper. "You do?"

Nodding, Harry sighed, loathe to continue but knowing he had little choice. "I remember falling into an ocean. I couldn't see or swim, or breathe. I remember hearing your voice...I felt your arms pull me up out of the water...or what I thought was water...I, I don't think I'd have made it if you hadn't come."

There was a apprehensive, unusual moment in which none of them spoke. Then, Sirius cleared his throat.

"I don't think I can tell you how happy I am to see you back again."

Harry smiled.

"I don't think I can tell you how happy I am to see you at all." He paused. "I've been through a lot in my life. I've been through some difficult times, and there were days where I wasn't sure if I'd make it. But those past two weeks....they were hell. Whether they were real or not, they were hell. I'd lost you and the closest thing I'd ever had to a family."

Sirius peered down at Harry, his expression somewhere between touched and shocked that Harry was being so open all of a sudden.

"It was the equivalent of having my heart ripped out, stomped on, sent through a meat grinder and then made into sushi." Harry paused. "And I hate sushi."

At that comedic gesture, Sirius laughed long and hard. Tears were soon streaming down his face. Tears of joy. But all of a sudden the laughter was transformed. Sirius' body was again being wracked by sobs, and he pulled Harry close to him as though he were afraid this were all coming to an end.

"The thing that killed me most was that I never told you what you meant to me."

Harry gave a nervous laugh. "What do you mean?"

"When I escaped Azkaban, I wasn't saving my godson. I was avenging my best friend and saving his son. But when I met you, I wanted to be a part of your life. I didn't get that opportunity, but as the days went on, the weeks, the months, I came to realize that I cared about you. More than anything else, Harry. I love you like a son. It killed me realizing that...that you didn't know that. Dumbledore assured me that you did...but I wasn't convinced. I wouldn't be, not till you'd heard it from my own mouth."

"Well, now I have," Harry said with a sigh.

"And now you have," Sirius repeated. "Take it how you will. I can't afford to hold you at arms length and assure you I'm always going to be there. It's not good enough. I don't want any space between us anymore."

Harry sat in quiet consideration of these words. He knew what Sirius meant, but how was that going to happen? Sirius was cleared, but what if something happened? What if Dumbledore intervened? It had been revealed to Harry a long time ago that the Dursley's home had been the safest place for him. Could that fact be changed if Harry went to live with Sirius now? Would Dumbledore refuse it?

"I don't want any space either," Harry said at long last. "I think we've had enough of that. Not just with our bond, but geographically as well, if you get my meaning."

It was Sirius' expression that took Harry back. His face had darkened again, going a slight shade of red. The first extreme coloring Harry had seen on it in a long time.

"I know your situation with your aunt and uncle. Had I known, I'd have tried to bring you with me sooner." He stopped to take a breath. Harry could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. "I don't know what Dumbledore has set up with your aunt Petunia, but whatever it is, I don't think he'd dare step between us now after everything that has happened."

"You don't?"

"I can't imagine why he would. Whatever he did with Petunia he can do with me. The only difference is I have no objection. Petunia despises you for what you are and what you can do. She did what she did because in her heart there was still some love for her sister."

Harry nodded. It made sense. "So, now that you're cleared, what's going to happen?"

Sirius grinned. "A few nights ago, Tonks and a few of her friends snuck into your aunt and uncle's house and took all your things. They brought them to my place. We didn't think you'd mind the abrupt change."

"Not at all," Harry said with a laugh.

The grin on Sirius' face widened. "Well, that's what happened one broken window and a few holes in the walls later." He noted the perplexed look on Harry's face. "Tonks isn't the most graceful person, you know. She broke your bedroom window getting in, and in an attempt to take a dresser with her she knocked a few holes in the wall adjacent to the door. Needless to say your aunt and uncle weren't too pleased."

Harry shrugged. "I've unintentionally done worse."

Laughing, Sirius stood. Harry followed. He gave his godfather a questioning look.

"Now what, eh?" Sirius put the expression aimed at him into words. "I suppose I have a few owls to send. You can stay here I guess." He took a few steps toward the door, then stopped. "Is there any hot water left?"

"Yeah, why?"

Sirius cleared his throat awkwardly. "I, er, think I'll go clean myself up before I step outside." He turned and headed toward the bathroom, Harry laughing at him all the way. When he heard the water running, he plopped himself down on the bed and smiled. Things were really going to be okay, he realized as he stared down at his socks. He had dropped the hospital robe and pulled on some of his muggle clothes instead, not wishing to look like as much like a patient as he felt like one.

"Brilliant, Potter," he whispered to himself. "Couldn't have asked for a happier ending."

_

* * *

_

Only it's not the end. Not yet. One more chapter to go, just to sum a few more things up for you guys.

Well, I'm afraid I'm not too happy with this one. I'm not happy with much, really. My family is giving me a lot of (insert profanity) and it's getting harder and harder to handle the stress. If I don't snap or lose my mind, I'll get this next one up by the weekend. Hopefully.

Take care, everyone.


	14. A Family in Black Manor

Okay, prep yourself for Remus' introduction and surprise realization of Harry's recovery. I left out the Weasleys and most others however. The story is dripping with angst as it is, and I'm getting tired of tearful hellos. Regardless, I'm going to say that here now is **truly** the final chapter. But don't be too sad. I'm planning a sequel. Cheers, all!

* * *

Uncomfortable with the idea that Sirius wanted to bring everyone to Mungos so that they might see and (in Harry's opinion) fawn over him, Harry convinced his godfather to contact, at first, just a few people. Ron and Hermione, Remus; and Sirius believed it would be important to allow Dumbledore to know that Harry was now awake and fully recovered.

"Very well," Harry sighed. Sirius grinned, knowing very well that his godson was not one for attention. Regrettably, he'd never be relieved of such a thing.

Sirius didn't want to spread the message with an owl, too fearful that it may be intercepted or end up in the wrong hands. His slight paranoia, though rather discouraging, was understandable.

"How will you be getting to everyone then?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. They were enjoying a rather insipid meal in his room, both of them now much cleaner and happier in each other's company. "And has the food always been this bad?"

"I will probably contact them through the Floo Network," Sirius answered while spooning some very watery soup, "and actually, this is the best it's been since I've gotten here."

Harry sighed. "Only the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus and Dumbledore, right?"

"Those are the only people _I_ intend on contacting." Sirius tried to hide a grin behind his soup spoon. Of course he had no intention of betraying his godson's trust or condition, but there was a very high possibility that Molly Weasley would have a hard time keeping her mouth shut. As wonderful a woman as she was, there were times when Molly's heart and maternal instincts outweighed her brains. "You know I can't promise you anything."

"I know," Harry said with a grimace as he poked his treacle pudding.

Sirius laughed. "For as bad as it looks, I think it's edible."

Frowning, Harry continued with this humorous act. "I'm thinking it might be planning on eating _me_. Does this look like an eye?"

Roaring in laughter, Sirius hardly heard the knock on the door. It was a soft, light tap that seemed slightly intimidated by the sounds rising from the room. Harry looked to Sirius, each of them sharing the same perplexed expression.

"One of the nurses?" Harry asked, beginning to stand. Sirius stopped him.

"I don't know," he responded lightly. The door clicked open to reveal a visitor that Harry couldn't see. A small extension from the wall covered the doorway from the patient's bed. Harry could only listen, straining his ears to catch a hint of the voice beyond the door.

"Remus!" Sirius greeted jovially. "I was about to contact you after I'd finished eating."

Harry felt himself pale, and was suddenly overcome with the urge to hide himself. There was an uncomfortable chuckle that echoed over Sirius' shoulder and into the room, making Harry's body shiver in tension. He wasn't quite ready to have any contact with anyone just yet. Damn it, why did Remus have to come now?

"You look cheery," said the man, sounding worn.

"And _you _look like something the dog dragged in." The door closed and Harry watched Sirius slip slowly into view. He winked at Harry, then turned back to the visitor. "But I think I know what just might cheer you up, if not relieve you of some anxiety."

"A silver bullet?" came the response. Sirius chuckled lightly, though he found no humor in the sentiment.

"I'm afraid not. Come, sit down and share some of Mungos after hours soup." Sirius came and stood before his seat. Remus entered behind him. His gaze went immediately to the bed where Harry sat, and staid there.

Harry had seen Remus worried. He'd seen Remus, or who he thought to be Remus, weep. He'd seen him angry and distracted, hopeless and scared. He'd seen Remus be a lot of things, but he'd never seen Remus like this.

The man's face went whiter than anything Harry had ever seen before. His eyes seemed to bulge in their sockets as his well set jaw dropped slightly in amazement. The lines in his face went slack. His body tensed, and everything in his head seemed to stop working for a split second momentarily. He had come expecting to see Sirius, in his usual forlorn, moping state. To see Harry lying still in the bed, barely responding to the world around him.

He had not expected this, it seemed.

"He's..." Remus' voice croaked. "You're..."

"Awake?" Harry and Sirius finished in unison.

Beyond that point, Remus was at a loss for words. He ran a shaking hand through his shaggy, gray streaked hair, then collapsed into the chair nearest him. Sirius was standing near, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I was going to tell you, you know?"

He breathed a thin stream of air through his teeth. Remus looked down at the floor and shook his head. "It's not important. The two of you deserved some time alone before...before..."

"Everyone came back to hog him," Sirius finished with a desolate laugh. Remus nodded, then stood from his chair.

"I'll leave you two alone," he said, and with that stepped outside.

Both Sirius and Harry watched him leave with frowns on their faces.

"He's been like that for as long as I can remember." Sirius sighed and slumped into the chair by the bed.

Harry nodded. "I can understand he feels like he's interrupting. But I don't really mind his company. He's welcome to stay."

Smiling at Harry's honesty and caring nature toward Remus, Sirius sighed again. "He knows he's welcome, but like you said he feels like he's intruding." Sirius paused. "He's happy you're all right."

"Oh?"

Sirius waited a few seconds, stood and exited the room. He found Remus slumped in a chair in the lobby, his head rested in his hands. His aged body not as sly as it used to be, Sirius couldn't get too close to Remus without the man sensing his presence. _It's the wolf in him do doubt,_ Sirius thought as a pair of bloodshot eyes peered up into his own. Remus looked, if possible, even worse than he had a few moments ago.

"Is there something wrong?" Remus asked, trying as best he could to straighten up his appearance. He stood formally, as though Sirius were a senior officer, addressing him over a very important matter. Sirius frowned, pondering how to answer this question.

Here before him stood the only living friend he had left. James was gone, and as far as Sirius was concerned, Peter was dead to him as well. Remus was the only thing he had left of a past they both remembered. That relationship was dear to him in a way he would never be able to finds words to express.

"Yes," he said at long last.

"What's happened?" Remus asked breathily, assuming they were talking about Harry.

Sirius raised a hand to calm the man, who seemed abnormally excitable at the moment. Of course, he couldn't blame him. Sirius would have been a very foolish and selfish man indeed to believe that he'd been the only one suffering through this dilemma. Remus had fretted just as much as he, though his emotions and beliefs had taken a back seat to Sirius' own. Damn it, and Sirius had allowed that to happen too. "Don't worry, it's nothing we can't handle."

"Is it Harry--"

"No," Sirius stated calmly. "It's you."

A frown came to Remus' face, partly out of confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I've said something wrong?"

"No," Sirius repeated. "Quite the contrary. You've not said anything at all."

Remus' frown deepened. "I don't understand."

"Through these past few weeks, we've both been through hell. Not just me. I never took into account your feelings during this time, and I want to apologize for that."

A timid smile came to Remus' features, like that of an embarrassed schoolboy. The one Sirius had known ages ago when they had both been young and reckless. Nothing at all like the way they were now.

"My feelings don't matter Sirius. Harry is your godson--"

"He's just as much yours, really."

Remus' frown couldn't get any deeper, so he resorted to drawing up his brow in a very perplexed line. "No, you're his godfather. You're--"

"Remus, for someone so smart you can be pretty dense sometimes." This took Remus aback, but Sirius, feeling guilty at that comment, quickly tried to bring up the slack he'd just left for himself. "You've been there for Harry when I couldn't be. You were there to protect him when you thought he was in danger. You did what I couldn't whenever you were near. Things you didn't have to do." Sirius let his head drop. "Thank you."

For the first time in a long while, a true smile broke on the man's features.

"I did only what I knew needed to be done. I care about Harry, yes, if you want the truth. It's not a crime. I too once knew what it was like to have nothing. I can't be the father figure that James would have been, and I'm not going to try to be. I don't want to take that place in Harry's life, and you don't either I believe."

"Neither one of us could fill that hole, my friend."

Remus nodded, continuing on. "But you're the runner up for that position, I guess you could say. What I feel isn't important. It's your job to be the fretting guardian." Remus chuckled. "A part that you play well."

"I beg your pardon!" Sirius mock frowned.

Both of them were laughing now, the days of their youth shining through just slightly as they stood outside of the hospital room in the eyes of passers by. It lasted for a healthy amount of time, before at last they were both sitting across from each other.

"With the second war starting, things are going to change," said Remus with a bitter glance over his shoulder. "What just wasn't very safe before will now be highly dangerous. Harry is going to be a primary target, you know that."

"Harry will be safe with me," Sirius said.

"And no one doubts that for a second," Remus began. "But Dumbledore is worried. He thinks it might be safer if you and Harry kept a low profile."

Sirius groaned. "We're _not_ going to be locked up in that house all summer!"

A sorrowful sigh escaped Remus' lips. "You might have to be. Dumbledore has set wards and spells around the perimeter as though he believes Armageddon will be launched on that very spot. As you well know, it could be if people know that Harry's staying there."

"Well what does he want to do?" Sirius snapped. "Send Harry back to live with his aunt and uncle?"

"No place is one hundred percent safe anymore. Except maybe Hogwarts, and fear is growing that even the magical boundaries around _its _perimeter now have limits against the growing forces of Voldemort's followers."

Sirius cursed and rubbed a hand over his face. He didn't want to listen to this, not now. He'd been subjected to enough trauma these past few weeks. Now, all he wanted was some peace.

"I don't like it anymore than you do," Remus continued. "But we're looking at history repeating itself. We're back in the dark days, my friend."

"And they're only going to get darker."

"Precisely."

There was a moment of silence, in which Sirius could only sit and imagine as all of their assets diminished one by one. Things were going to get complicated all over again, only this time it was worse. Voldemort had more followers, younger ones. Wizards that could wipe out thousands of useful men and women working against the wakening darkness that lingered just beyond the sunset, threatening to take over their next dawn with a wave of fury and vengeance.

Harry, his godson, was a primary target of those forces. Sirius was powerful and smart, but even he couldn't hold up against the waves that threatened to take them all down into oblivion, as much as he hated to think about it. It panged him to know that his protection was not enough to save that which was dearest to him.

But he'd be damned if he gave up without a fight.

"Let's go back," he purposed. "Harry must be wondering where the heck we are."

_

* * *

_

"There's still one thing I don't understand," Harry said as he spoke privately with Dumbledore.

"Just one, Harry?" the elderly man asked with a knowing grin.

"Sir, I don't think I have enough days in my life to ask you in detail about everything that's happened to me in...wherever I was."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Very well, Harry. Ask me, and I will do my best to answer you."

He stopped, biting his lip to consider carefully his words. He never once thought he'd be here in this office over the summer holidays, but then again Harry had a knack for surprising himself with all the situations he ended up in.

"How is it that Voldemort was able to take control of me?"

The old man considered Harry for a moment, as though wondering if this were something Harry really needed to know. A glitter in his eyes told Harry that, regardless of his better judgment, Dumbledore had acquiesced.

"At first, Voldemort did not have control of you. Wherever you were, the imagery, the situation, all of it, was nothing more than a simulation of your own mind."

"At first," Harry repeated.

"Yes, Harry. As you progressed, Voldemort tapped into your thoughts as he has done before if you recall." Harry nodded. "He noted your weakened mental state and took that into his advantage. He began to play with your emotions and your mind. Eventually he came to realize that if he could keep you in your state for long enough, you would begin to decay until at last..."

"I would die."

Dumbledore nodded. "Precisely."

Harry frowned, another thought coming to his mind. "How is it then that you entered my dream and gave me that knife? The lock pick Sirius had given me?"

A grin flashed across Dumbledore's face. "That was not an image of Voldemort, Harry, nor one of his illusions."

"Then what was it?"

"Not what, Harry, but who?"

Harry sat in quiet consideration. "You?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Harry. I was able to find a gap in Voldemort's holding on you. I slipped in and gave you, how would you say, a push in the right direction?"

"I see," said Harry. "Professor, might I ask you one more thing?"

"Just one, Harry?"

He looked up into the old man's eyes and found, for the first time, a sign of tiredness. Harry suddenly felt very selfish for having taken all this man's time in issues concerning himself. He began to stand.

"I can wait, sir,"

Dumbledore raised a reassuring hand. "No, no, Harry. Please, stay. I am sorry if you misunderstood my words."

"It's not _that _sir," Harry stated, sinking uneasily back into his seat. "It's just that you appear to be..."

"A bit tired?"

"Exhausted."

Dumbledore nodded. "I will admit Harry, I am, but do not let that concern you. We've all been through a great deal these past few weeks, myself included."

"Because of me?"

The headmaster cocked a gaze in Harry's direction. "As I said before, Harry, do not worry yourself with it. Now, what is your question?"

"How," Harry hesitated. "How is it that...Snape appeared in my dream, then? Was it...it _was _really him, wasn't it? Because of the Occlumency?"

"Yes, Harry, that is precisely why." Dumbledore smiled as though impressed with Harry's deduction. "He went at my bidding and slipped through the last gap we could find in Voldemort's hold. He came to make sure you passed through the barrier between your mind and reality."

"What happened after I--"

"Once you passed through the barrier, that world became no more. Severus had no place in which he was contained. He returned to his body unharmed."

Harry nodded, satisfied. He stood, this time truly ready to leave Dumbledore alone. "Thank you for your time, Professor."

Dumbledore stood. "Let me walk you out, Harry," he said with a small smile. "I have a feeling that there are others out there who will be requiring my knowledge at this time." He pat Harry's shoulder as they passed through the doorway, riding the stairs down like an escalator. In the parallel corridor, Remus, Sirius, the Weasley clan, Hermione, Hagrid, and a surprising number of Order members and Professors stood waiting for both of them.

Harry made a quick dash to Sirius' side, wanting nothing more than to avoid the excessive attention he was sure to receive if he stayed in one spot too long. The Weasleys and Hermione had all dished out their overzealous welcomes earlier in the week, and he and Hagrid had had their own tearful reunion earlier that day before Harry had met with his headmaster to discuss the past situations.

Sirius was in a deep discussion with Remus and Arthur Weasley concerning the Ministry's recent actions toward the Death Eater forces rumored to be growing in Romania. Arthur and Molly were concerned for their son Charlie, who had gone back to work in Romania some time ago.

"We're trying to get him to come back here," Harry heard Arthur saying as he approached. "Molly's worried sick and frankly we could use the extra help. I, oh--Hello Harry!"

All faces turned to consider him with wide grins.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," Harry greeted with an equal smile.

"Hey, kiddo," said Sirius with a smile, resting an arm about Harry's shoulders. "Get your answers?"

Harry nodded. "I think so."

"Dumbledore looks exhausted," Remus commented. They all turned to watch Albus Dumbledore step among the mingling crowd, speaking individually with Order members and Professors.

"No more than the rest of us," Arthur completed, pinching the bridge of his nose against a sting in his sinuses.

"Is there anything else that we needed to take care of here?" Sirius asked.

"You're asking me?" Harry asked with a slight laugh.

"You need to know that I can't keep very good track of myself these days," Sirius grinned. "You're my unofficial secretary."

"I was never very good at office work."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever _done_ any office work?"

"No That's why I'm not very good at it."

This brought a few chuckles from their surrounding group.

"I want to head out of here before attention becomes a main factor," Sirius sighed, peering over his shoulders as a few faces considered him with suspicion. Sirius may have been cleared, but very few were still willing to trust him straight out.

"Agreed," said Harry.

"See you tonight then?" Sirius turned to Remus and Arthur.

Remus nodded.

"The family and I will be attending, yes."

Sirius had planned a large dinner for the Order members and their family. He had been planning on actually cooking something, but after Harry had fallen victim to his breakfast earlier that same day (they were now living together) he had suggested they owl out for a pizza or Chinese. Apparently a stay at Azkaban didn't improve one's culinary skills.

"Not that you ever had any to begin with," Remus laughed upon hearing the story.

"Sod off." Was all Sirius had said.

Harry shadowed Sirius as they left the corridor. "Very good. Take care," he announced to the others as they disappeared beyond a corner. "Ready to go?" he asked. Harry nodded. They reached the outside broom closet and took up their brooms eagerly. Harry with his Firebolt, and Sirius with a newer product that had just been introduced. It wasn't a racing broom like Harry's, but it had a good handle with some remarkable control that put up hearty resistance to strong wind currents.

"On your marks," Sirius laughed, setting himself on his broom.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Aren't you a bit old for this?"

"You're just afraid you're going to lose," came the response with a devious smile.

Shaking his head, Harry mounted his own broom. "You say that every time, and you lose every time."

"I do not _lose_."

"You're right, you don't lose. You fail _miserably_."

Sirius' countenance held an air of mock offense. "I beg your pardon!"

"Sod off," Harry laughed. Sirius elbowed him affectionately.

"Ready then?"

Harry nodded.

"On your marks....get set..." Harry shot off like a rocket, leaving Sirius quite literally in the dust. "HEY!" He hollered, zooming after. "THAT'S CHEATING!"

Anyone stepping outside after that would have only heard their laughter reverberating in the open space of the skies above their heads.

_

* * *

_

After the cleanup of dinner (pizza), the twenty plus guests invited that night all gathered in the large sitting room at Grimmauld Place exchanging stories, jokes, tales, and histories that they found to be interesting. Harry, of course, enjoyed every moment of it. With the knowledge that Number Four Privet Drive was now nothing more than a memory of his past, and that life, for the better, had not changed in any unbearable way, Harry could find nothing to complain about. Surrounded by friends and, for the first time, family, he was easily ready to claim the title of Happiest Person Alive.

Sipping at a mug of butterbeer, Harry's attention randomly switched between the one, two, five conversations at hand, and occasionally observing a game of Wizard's Chess between Hermione and Ron. He didn't say much, but he was having just as much fun playing the spectator. A few times Mrs. Weasley felt it necessary to fret lightly at his appearance or lack of words, and Tonks had, one more than one occasion tripped over a few chairs to see what he was doing.

When the crowds finally diminished and it was just Sirius and Harry, with the night quieted down and warmed slightly by the crackling fire, the evening became a silent time for casual conversations about the past and plans for a much brighter future.

"Is there something you want to do at all?" Sirius asked while taking a sip of coffee. French vanilla, his favorite. Harry, who was sitting across from him and finishing off the remains of their butterbeer, sat in quiet thought for a moment.

"Not really, I don't know what's out there as far as wizarding vacations go."

Sirius could not help but suppress a chuckle. "Truth be told, I don't either." He took a pause for breath. "Aren't we a riot?"

"Yep," Harry laughed, swirling his mug and setting it on the table at his chair's side. "Well, is there some place _you've_ always wanted to go?"

"I'm up for anything that isn't a cave, a hospital, or a prison."

It was Harry's turn to laugh. "I'm sure. Well, that still leaves a lot of options open, you know?"

"Yeah." Sirius nodded. The room fell quiet momentarily.

A week after he had been informed that it was Kreacher who had supplied the information that had sent Harry running to find his godfather, Sirius had dismissed the elf. Dismissing was a very dishonorable occurrence for a house elf. It was a badge of disgrace, a statement that his services had not been fully satisfactory for the family which he waited upon. The situation had left Kreacher begging for mercy to be reinstated as the Black Manor's House Elf. Sirius cared very little for Kreacher's well being, and felt no guilt for dismissing Kreacher after so many long years of service. The shock would most assuredly kill him out of grief. Few, however, really brought themselves to being able to care. Even the usually understandable Hermione, who had forgiven Kreacher for all the insults he'd grumbled at her, could not forgive him for endangering so many lives to please Bellatrix Lestrange and other Death Eaters.

Harry was happy that Sirius had released Kreacher. He'd never liked the house elf, and after Dobby, never would have felt comfortable having one of his own home anyway. Sirius seemed to be in a very similar agreement, and they had decided that any cleaning in Black Manor would be done either manually or magically.

"Perhaps something to wait and plan later on," Sirius said after clearing his throat. "How was your dinner?"

Harry's face flashed a grin. "Pretty good, though eventually you're going to have to learn how to cook."

Shrugging, Sirius peered up at the ceiling. "I'll learn."

"I can do some here and there as well."

This statement brought his gaze back down to their level. His gaze pierced Harry with amazement and doubt. "You cook?"

"On occasion. I had to learn when living with the Dursleys. I did a lot of the cooking when I lived there."

Sirius restrained himself from commenting on his aunt and uncle and tried to continue a happier shade on the conversation. "Really? I'd have never thought you to be the cooking type. Your father's culinary skills didn't go beyond toast-making, and even _that _was risky at times."

Harry's face went red as he laughed. "Oh?"

"But your mother could cook very well."

"Well, you can discern for yourself if I ever do cook something. I'm afraid I draw the line at baking, however."

A mock frown crossed Sirius' face. "What a shame."

"Isn't it?" Harry sniggered.

Sirius laughed. The room went silent once more. Both of them struggled for something to talk about, though neither could find much.

_

* * *

_

A few candles that hung from the walls, along with the burning fire in the fireplace was all that was casting any light on them. A few blue-silver moon beans trickled in from the higher windows, but they went unnoticed in the hot glare of the lighting that surrounded them tonight.

Sirius sat with his feet pulled up on a love seat that appeared to be only slightly repaired from it's once moth eaten state. Harry had taken up a whicker chair across from him, and was now staring at a rug on the wooden floor as though he were incredibly interested in it. His butterbeer sat forgotten at his side.

Peering into his own coffee mug, Sirius became very aware of how much he hated awkward silence. These were bound to happen, these silences, but that didn't mean Sirius liked them anymore. There had hardly been any silence between himself and James, unless they had been arguing prior to it. Yet even those instances hadn't lasted long because one always had to confide something in the other, whether it was a random idea for a prank or just a concern that was suddenly pressing upon their mind.

Harry wouldn't be like that though. Not right away. As much as he cared for Sirius and wanted to be with him, it would be hard getting used to having someone he could depend on. His trust wasn't an issue, Sirius knew. Harry trusted him more than anyone else, it was simply remembering to exercise that trust.

Inwardly, Sirius sighed. He suddenly found himself wondering on how much he could really do for Harry as his guardian.

You'll do fine, echoed the confidence ridden voice of a man Sirius had not seen in ages. Tears welled in his eyes as the image of James smiling at him came to his mind. _You said you didn't want distance. Enforce that. Don't let Harry think he can't talk to you for a moment about anything._

But he's so different, Sirius thought with a sorrowful glance in his godson's direction. _He's not you, James. I don't know what to do for him._

You will in time. This is something you're both going to have to get used to.

But what if I can't do it?

The Great Padfoot doubting himself? Moony would get a kick out of this.

Sirius laughed in his mind. _Maybe he would. You would too...if you were still here. _There was a momentary silence. _It's just so hard._

No one ever said life was easy.

Sirius felt a growl breathe to life in his throat. _Sod off._

The voice stopped. Sirius shook his head in hopes to clear the image from his mind. With tired eyes he looked back up at Harry, who seemed to be running out of things to look at. Those green eyes fell after a time upon Sirius, a sad smile on his face.

"You look knackered."

He peered up at the grandfather clock that sat near the hallway leading upstairs. "It's getting late."

"Think we should tuck in for the night?"

Sirius nodded. He stood and took his coffee cup and Harry's mug to the kitchen sink and left them sit in its base, thinking it would be allowable to let them rest over night. When he turned around he found Harry standing in the threshold of the kitchen, watching him intently.

"Something wrong?" Sirius asked, making his way toward the doorway in which Harry stood.

"No," Harry replied honestly, stepping aside. "Are you all right?"

Taken aback by this question, Sirius frowned. His gaze searched Harry's own, and for a second he found that same longing for a grasp on what was to become of them reflected in his godson's eyes. The thought both panged and relieved him. At least it wasn't just Sirius having a hard time trying to figure out how to take hold of his new role.

"I will be." He smiled and rested an arm around Harry's shoulders. "We both will be."

Harry smiled. "Glad to hear it."

They walked side by side through the corridor.

"Starting tomorrow, you cook breakfast."

A laugh erupted from Harry's throat. "Very well, then _you _make lunch."

"Do you trust me?"

"I don't imagine a sandwich or two would be _that_ hard."

Sirius pondered this for a moment. "All right, I can give it a shot. Then that leaves dinner."

"We can try a double project."

"You mean both of us cooking?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

"Because I won't know who to blame if we burn the house down."

At this statement, both of them roared with laughter. It took them a good, long while to regain their composures.

"We can just say that that was a joint project as well."

"Fair enough." Sirius shrugged.

Harry shook his head, hiding his grin. "All right. Sleep well, Sirius."

"See you in the morning."

They shared a light, friendly embrace before slipping into their own rooms for the night.

_

* * *

_

The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black was an edifice onto itself. With rooms galore and a history as magnificent as the detail worked into its structure, it was easily one of the grandest homes anyone, muggle or wizard, would ever lay eyes on.

It had been home to numerous and famous wizards over the ages, housing their children, and their children's children, and their children's children's children. The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black had known many great things and many great persons, but it had never known a truly happy family.

Not until tonight.

****

The End...

* * *

Well, how was that guys? This got pretty emotionally intense, especially when Sirius heard James' voice. No, he's not going insane, and he's not the one stuck in an imaginary world. He's just...have you ever missed someone really badly? Have you ever imagined yourself talking to them, and imagined what they might say back? That's what happened to Sirius right there. Nothing deeper than that.

Anyway, I hope this was a nice ending. I've got Loreena McKennit's "Dante's Prayer," playing right now. Music adds to the mood. I hope that song shines through in here.

Thank you everyone so much for your wonderful reviews! I've noticed as well that this story is on quiet a few favorites lists. (Bows) I am very humbled.

Oh, and Lady Taliesin, I will do what I can to get the next chapter up for **Worlds of Wonder** as soon as possible, all right? (hugs) You're so sweet.

And a whopping 12 pages in HTML format on Word Processor. Wow!

Thank you again everyone. Very much so. (bows) I am honored that so many of you enjoyed this story. I hope it grows to get over 200 someday, but I'll have to wait and see. Take care all of you! May your muses bless you!


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